


I Have Loved the Stars Too Fondly

by ASingleBlueRose



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Femshep/Kaiden Alenko, Jane Shepard - Freeform, Kaiden Alenko - Freeform, My First Fanfic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The ending Shepard deserves, but a happy ending, equal parts angst and fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 128,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASingleBlueRose/pseuds/ASingleBlueRose
Summary: War isn't always over the minute the smoke clears. Sometimes the hardest part about war is learning how do deal with what comes after.Post-Reaper War, ME3 Epilogue. Kaiden/Femshep. Half fluff/half angst because it be like that sometimes.
Relationships: Kaiden/Shepard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. She's Out There, Somewhere

He talks about her every week. 

They meet in the dingy basement of an old church. It is spring. The windows are still shattered in some places, but the broken glass has been cleaned up. It’s one of those old English churches from the days when people argued if the earth was the center of the universe — so far from the days when man turned their eyes to the stars and beyond. 

Sundays are for Church services, people come in and out all day, lighting candles and saying a prayer for the missing. Monday evenings are reserved for the widow support group. Tuesday’s are for disabled civilians — innocents hurt during the attack. Wednesday’s are for those coping with loved ones who are MIA. He goes on Wednesdays. 

The first week he was in a wheelchair and hardly spoke at all. Most of the attendees were old soldiers, Alliance, trapped in London from across the galaxy, waiting to leave and see what was left of home. There wasn’t much contact with the colonies, and all communications were patchy at best. The church had a landline. A fucking relic. A lifeline, still. 

Mostly they sat around and drank lukewarm tea and exchanged stories. These days, everyone carried around pictures of the lost, like people used to do in those old vids, when they’d take out their wallets and unfurl all the pictures of their grandchildren. This is my son, he’s been missing for a month. He has a birthmark on his cheek. This is my wife. She’s only 47. She was helping on Illium. No, we haven’t heard anything, but if she’s hurt I wouldn’t want her anywhere else. He regrets not having a photo. _Really, not even one?_ One woman asked. _How long were you together?_ Almost five years. _And you never took a photo together?_ No, he says. He shows an old photo from the news. The day she became a spectre. Had has to explain she hardly looks like that anymore. She has a scar on her cheek now. Her hair is shorter, but she was growing it out. _It’s not a very good picture_ , people would say. _You can’t see her features up close very well. You don’t have anything else?_ No. I’m sorry, he would tell them, and he was. 

On the first day, he introduced himself. “Major Alenko.” Alenko? Did they hear right? _Weren’t you a Spectre?_ _Yes, humanity’s first, I saw it on the news_. No, not the first. Second. _Second_ _?_ Commander Shepard was the first. _Right, I remember now. Hero of the Citadel. You served with her? Where is she?_ Wish I knew. _MIA_? Yes. _You’ve been looking for her?_ Of course. _What a shame_. I know.

After their meeting, in which they all shared updates and talked about their lost loves, they would line up to use the phone and hope someone picked up. His mother always did. Their house was old, and luckily they never uninstalled the landline. It was a miracle it still worked. They didn’t have long to talk, but she always asked. Any news? No, he’d say, leaning forward on his crutches. Any new about Dad? No, she’d say, and they would sit and mourn a silent second thousands of miles away. 

Maybe it was stupid for him to stay in London. His mom needed him more than ever, and he was their only son. Wasn’t it his job to look after her? He would find a ride out of London — he was still a Spectre, he had favors to cash in. People would kill for the opportunities he had. But what if they found Shepard? What if one day they needed someone to ID the body? What if he missed the chance to say goodbye? Hannah had trusted him to reach out with any news of her daughter while she was off-world, working with survivors. If he left now, she may never be found. She may be ditched in one of the many mass graves, and he may never get to say goodbye, never get to know what happened to her for certain, never get closure. 

He’d already had her torn, so violently, from him once. He wouldn’t lose her, dead or alive, to uncertainty again. 

He hung up the phone and let the next gentleman in line have his turn, picking up his crutches at the door, and took the elevator up and out. London still smelled like smoke and ash, and it was cold for spring. He hobbled to the military base down the road. 

Twice already he’d been asked to identify a body, and neither time had he even a shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t her. A lot of people from the support group would say he should count himself lucky. Some of them were given only pictures, told that most likely their loved one was dead and buried, and all that was left was a mass grave on the edge of the city, an old farmers field that still had cornstalks tilled into the soil. Others would hear news and rush in to ID, and never returned. You always knew what happened to them. Confirmed Killed in Action — that support group was on Friday’s. The Wednesday group was thinning out. It had been a month since the attack, and less and less miracles occurred every day. Injured turned to dead, and people began to give up hope of ever finding a trace of those they lost. 

But how could Kaiden possibly move on? The love of his life had literally come back from the dead once after he mourned her for two years. Where was the support group for something like that? 

He had already hobbled back to his cot when one of the privates from the base woke him up with a start. Kaiden bit back a yowl — the private had accidentally nudged his slowly-healing shattered knee. 

“Major Alenko, urgent message for you.” 

“What now?” His eyes burned from the privates flashlight. Six months ago he would have jumped to his feet— a career military response— ready for anything. But if he did that now, his leg would probably bend the other direction, and he was exhausted. When was the last time he’d gotten 8 hours? Or even 6? Even on days when he didn’t have migraines, he was lucky for 4. He was too on-edge to sleep. He should probably talk to someone about that, but the hospitals were full enough, and it was too much effort to fight for an appointment that would keep getting pushed back until next month anyway. 

“Major Alenko, I think they’ve found Commander Shepard.” 

He couldn’t lie, his heart jumped into his throat. He forced it down. He refused to be crushed like the last times—refused to give himself hope that he could find closure, move on, go home, mourn, and try to find a way to move on with this life. 

“You think, or you know?” 

The young man swallowed. “They said they know.” 

“And how do they know?” He covered his eyes with his pillow, he would feel the creeping pain on a headache coming on. Just turn off the damn light already, it wasn’t like they would let him go into the morgue at fuck-all hours of the night anyway. 

“Major…she’s still alive.” 


	2. Lucky

It was early morning, too early for most visitors, and Kaiden was pacing. 

What was taking so long? He had been at the hospital for an hour. Sure, he had waited nearly a month already, a few more minutes couldn’t hurt, but he couldn’t even be certain yet that it was really her. Until he saw her face, he wouldn’t believe it. Why should he? What were the chances, really, that she’d beat the odds once again and come home to him. Not only that, but after a month? Why hadn’t they contacted him sooner? How long had she been waiting for him?  
A young woman came down the hallway. She looked too young to be a nurse — she couldn’t have been older than 19. But these days, he knew, it was all hands on deck. They’d take whatever help they could get from whoever was willing and able to lend a hand. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting…” she glanced at her chart, “Major Alenko. We had to run some clearances before we could let you in. We’ve had a pretty bad outbreak of the flu recently—so we have to limit who we give visitation to.” 

“I understand, thank you for finding me. Did you just find her? Why did it take so long for me to hear something?” 

“We only just positively identified her. I don’t think we ever would have known if a new doctor hadn’t come in a few days ago to help deal with the outbreak — she said she’s an old friend.” 

“Old friend?” 

And then he saw her, walking down the hallway, looking tired and older than he remembered, her grey hair grown out and stuffed into a tight bun. She smiled when she saw him, and to his surprise, wrapped him in a a hug. 

“Dr. Chakwas.” 

“Kaiden. It’s good to see you. I wish I had better news for you.” She released him and glanced at the younger nurse, nodding to her that she was dismissed. She hesitated for a moment, but left them alone, or alone as they could be in the bustling hospital lobby. “How’s your leg healing?” 

“Better every day. Docs said I should be off the crutches by next week.” He readjusted himself nervously. “Where is she? What happened? Is she okay?”  
“She’s been in a medicated coma for the past few weeks. No one could positively identify her because her records hadn’t been updated recently. Any scars, tattoos, identifying marks —“ 

“—Cerberus wiped them clean when they rebuilt her,” Kaiden finished for her.  
Chakwas nodded. “She was in the burn ward for a while, they weren’t sure if she’d make it, but she’s been stable for the past few days. They’re starting to wake her up, but I won’t lie. She’s still in bad shape. Especially with this flu that’s been going around, it’s putting people in danger. She’s still on life support. It could kill her. That’s why they’re limiting visitation to immediate family only.” 

“So I can’t even see her.” Kaiden’s face felt hot. After all he’d done, technicality and rules were keeping them apart once again. How many times would he come within an inch of getting to hold her again, only to have those hopes dashed.  
“I took it upon myself to update some of Shepard’s records. Only Hannah was listed as family,” Chakwas deadpanned. “Isn’t it lucky you eloped just before the war ended?” 

She looked at him, her face stern, an expression that told him to keep his mouth shut. She handed him a hospital mask. 

“Yes.” He took it, nodding to show her he understood what she had done. Not exactly the way he planned on getting married. But it would do. “Really lucky.”  
The ICU required Chakwas’s clearance badge, and then another layer of added security, where guards waved them down for weapons, then pressed a small stun-gun looking device to their bare skin. Temperature checks. 

They must have passed whatever they were looking for, because they passed into the elevator without incident. Kaiden felt his heart tighten in his chest. Chakwas was here now. She’d been looking after Shepard for as long as he could remember, and there was no doubt that the person they’d found was her now. Could it really be her? Could his ongoing search for closure finally be coming to an end, and not just an end, but a happy one at that? 

Chakwas slipped on her mask, and Kaiden followed suit as they let out at the 7th floor. It was much quieter in the ICU, no doubt because of the limited visitors, and Kaiden sighed a breath of relief for Chakwas’s quick thinking and willing the bend the rules when necessary. 

“What’s with all the added security?” Kaiden asked.

“Such massive destruction does things to people’s minds. Especially when those people are civilians who never expected it to happen to them. There have been a few…incidents lately.” 

“Indoctrination?” 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bring it up. No one wants to believe me, despite every form of trauma therapy being ineffective.” 

“You’re starting to sound like someone we both know and love,” Kaiden said, and he smiled, truly and honestly smiled, for what felt like the first time in years. “Same shit different day, huh? Can you imagine the look on her face when you tell her face when she finds out people still don’t believe us?” 

“Kaiden,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him as they reached a door with an armed guard outside. “I just want to prepare you. She was hurt—badly hurt. This won’t be the storybook reunion you might have been hoping for.” 

Kaiden’s grin disappeared. “I know.” 

“She was in the burn ward. She’s still in a coma. I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. It won’t—it won’t be like last time when she came walking up to you like nothing happened.”

“I know.” 

“Are you sure you’re ready? It’s okay if you feel like you need to prepare yourself.”  
“I’ve waited long enough,” he told her. Chakwas shrugged and handed the guard her ID, and together they went though the door, Kaiden’s eyes scanning the beds to find any sign of the woman he loved.


	3. Pride and Joy

The first thing he notices is her red hair.

That’s the first thing most people noticed about her. He can remember the first time he went to the Citadel with Shepard. The amount of people — aliens, even — who had reached out to touch the top of her head. I didn’t know humans came in such vibrant colors. Shepard would always laugh nervously. The more things change, the more things stay the same, she would say. Humans weren’t so different. The way women would touch it without her consent and remark how lucky she was, asking if it was real or not. Ma’am, I’m Alliance Military. You think I have time to stand over my sink with a tub of red hair dye once a month? They’d coo and ignore her. On the battlefield, she was a force to be reckoned with, but in civilian clothes she was barely 5’2, with sun-kissed freckles that aged her down ten years. So pretty. I always wanted a little girl with with red curly hair. Then look on their faces when she’d tell them about the time she dyed it black when she was a teenager, how it took years to grow back right. Priceless.

Her eyes were closed and faintly bruised around the edges, the healing remains two black eyes, connected by a thin strip of white bandage across her nose under the yellowing plastic of her oxygen mask. Yellow and faint purple. Lavender. He’d never been much of an art person, but then again never was she. But still she pointed the color out whenever they came across it. My mom’s favorite color, she’d say. Funny how he remembered that. Her nose must have been broken.

Her arms were wrapped tightly in bandages, and her face was mostly covered in an oxygen mask. Her freckles were faded. When had they last seen the sun? He’d never seen her so pale, her skin so soft, untouched by sand and wind and hot alien suns. One of her hands was covered, most likely because it had been burned, but one was visible, covered in gadgets and IV’s that connected to the monitors next to her. He reached out, then hesitated, glancing back at Chakwas, afraid to touch, as if she might wilt like a butterfly’s wings. She nodded, and he reached for her hand. It was cold, the tips of her fingers grey. If it weren’t for the heart monitor and the slow but surely rising of her chest, he wouldn’t have been able to tell she was even still alive.

He reached out to touch her hair. It was clean, but short in odd places. Burned? She would he pissed. He remembered how short he hair was after Cerberus rebuilt her. Barely grown out from a buzz cut. It drove her crazy. Do you have any idea how hard it is to grow out curly hair? No matter what I do, it’s in my eyes. He remembered how proud she was, just a few months prior, when she could successfully stuff it into a ponytail. If she could see what they’d done to it, she would be pissed as hell.

“She’s doing much better,” Chakwas said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They took her off the respirator last night. Her organs were in shock — but she’s showing signs of recovery. Her body is still fighting. It’s a good sign. She’s not giving up yet.”

“She’s a fighter. Always has been. Always will be.” He traced the outline of her knuckles. Those hands had done so much. Hurt, healed, helped. He hoped she finally got what she deserved. That these people put as much effort into saving her life as Shepard had put into helping everyone she’d ever met.

“They want to wake her up soon. The sooner we know what level of brain damage she has, the better.”

“Brain damage?”

“Some unusual reading on the MRI. We can’t know for sure what’s happening just yet. It doesn’t seem extensive.”

“Do you think she’s in pain?”

“I doubt she feels anything now. When she wakes up, yeah. I’m sure she’ll feel it.”

“I’m glad she’s out for it then.”

Chakwas frowned. “Kaiden, we won’t know anything until she’s awake. She’s as ready as she’ll ever be. The sooner, the better.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, we hope. It won’t be like you’re expecting,” Chakwas said bluntly.

“When is it ever?”

“It’ll take days—weeks until she’s up and talking. If we can get her up and taking,” she said, taking her place next to him. “At first all we can ask for is that she opens her eyes. Responds to external stimuli.”

“Can she hear us? Now?”

“People have been asking that question for centuries. We still really don’t know. We can hope. Some patients claim to recall what’s said to them in this state, others don’t. It’s impossible to know. But it can’t hurt.”

He touches her face. The skin is dry, but soft. Those wrinkles on her forehead, the ones that drove her crazy, are relaxed, almost softened. She always expressed frustration toward their origin — but one look at her face when she was angry, or thinking hard about something, and you could trace their origin easily. She was forming a permanent divot between her eyebrows. 

He doesn’t think he’s every seen her so still. She was like that damn hamster of hers, always running on her little wheel, always moving. Even in her sleep she would toss and turn, even when she should have been dead tired, even before they’d lay next to each other, each knowing damn well the other wasn’t sleeping, wouldn’t sleep, until it was all over for better or for worse. At least one of them was finally getting some rest. He thanked his lucky stars her face was mostly untouched. He’d seen enough burn victims to know he was lucky she was recognizable.

“Does Admiral Shepard know?”

“No. Hannah doesn’t. I figured you should be the one to call,” Chakwas leaned up against the wall. She must have been working long shifts. She looked exhausted.

“What do I even tell her? About how she’s doing?”

“She’s been in this business for a long time. Hannah can handle the truth,” Chakwas said. “She’d want to hear it from you, but I can talk to her if you want.”

“No—I promised her I’d call her as soon as I heard anything. I just—this is her daughter. What if I say something wrong?”

“You won’t. If anyone knows what she’s going through it’s you.”

Kaiden nodded, brushing his hand over hers again. Still, she did not move. He knew to be realistic. He knew it wouldn’t be like last time — with her walking into his arms like nothing happened after he watched her choke and die in the cold depths of space before his very eyes. But still, part of him hoped. He’d never seen her like this before. The closest he’d come was at the very beginning of it all—their first mission together on Eden Prime. God, what a nightmare—just the beginning of what was to come, but still a nightmare. What would have happened if she hadn’t shoved him out of the way that day, hasn’t taken his place, sealing her own fate as the only thing standing between the universe and total annihilation? He owed her one, no, a lot more at that. He just hoped there was still time to repay her, just once, at least, one day.

“We have an emergency comm room you can use, but you should call her soon. It’s not a very stable connection.”

“Okay. I’m ready,” he said. He pressed her hand against his face, tried to imagine a time when it wasn’t limp—when she responded to his touch—and promised himself that he would feel her warmth again.

Chakwas wasn’t kidding when she said the comm room was barely functioning. Wires were hanging out of the room haphazardly, and control panels were left open. Presumably someone was working on it and must have gone on break. He stepped up the the intercom. “Patch me though to Admiral Hannah Shepard, SSV Kilimanjaro.”

There were a few minutes until the call went though. He waited, hoping that she wouldn’t pick up, that he could buy a few more minutes to scramble for the words to say.

The image of her was fuzzy, but it was her. Tall, always in proper uniform, even in times like these. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “Kaiden?” She said with an unexpected softness. He wasn’t aware they were on first-name basis, and from what he’d heard of Hannah, she wasn’t one to be loose when it came to decorum and protocol. Memories of Shepard’s childhood stories echoed in his head. “Tell me you’ve heard something.”

“She’s alive.” He felt something break in his throat, like there was a tension there he didn’t know he was holding onto, finally releasing. It was the first time he’d allowed himself, no, was able to find the ability to cry. A tear slipped down his cheek, and his shoulders fell. He wanted to scream. Nothing else mattered now, what else could he possibly ask for? By the grace of God she was alive. “Hannah,” he repeated itself, as if notwanting the words to disappear into nothing. “She’s alive, they found her. She’s here. With me. I’ve seen her with my own two eyes.” It sounded like he was convincing himself now, and partially he was. This was real. She was in the room next door, sleeping soundly, her heart beating, her chest rising and falling with no sign of stopping.

Her image was blurred, but he watched her expression break. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Dear God,” she choked, “dear God.”

“She’s recovering,” Kaiden continued. The words poured out of him like vomit. They blurred together, never-ending, as if they were running out of time. “She’s not awake yet but she will be soon. It’s too early to tell what her life will be like when she does but she’s still breathing. She’s still with us. She came back again.”

Hannah was shaking her head, speechless. Kaiden wished she was here, that he could hug her, that they could revel in their hope and their pain and their love for Jane together and wait until tomorrow without sleeping because who could find sleep after today? Knowing what they know? That once again she came back. Just like she always did. She came back to them one last time.

And for a while they stood there in near silence, living in that moment and the knowledge and the love they both shared, until Hannah spoke. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Thank you, Major. I owe you a great debt. I don’t know when we’ll speak again, but I hope I’ll be able to get through again soon.”

“I’ll update you whenever I can.”

“Take care of her for me. Take care of yourself for me. She’s going to need you, Kaiden.”

“I know.”

“She’s my pride and joy. That’s my baby. The only one I’ll ever have.”

“I know, Admiral. I promise I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will. Be safe. Both of you.”

“She’ll he waiting for you when she wake up.”

“I’ll be there soon. I promise.”

And then she was gone, and Kaiden was alone again. Wiping his face, he hobbled back to Shepard’s room, the weight of his promise weighing on his shoulders.


	4. Newton’s First Law

“It’s her birthday next week.”

“God, really? You think I’d know that after staring at her chart for so long. I mean, I do. I think I just get lost in how many days have gone by.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

The young doctor is puttering around the room, checking the machines hooked up to the bed. It’s a surprise it all fits in here, the room is more the size of a closet than anything else. In fact, that’s probably what it’s meant to be. That’s probably the only reason she has a private room, Kaiden thinks, everywhere else he looks the patients are all but stacked on top of each other. He wonders how Chakwas managed to get her some privacy.

Kaiden knew these things took time. It had been three days since they’d taken her off the cocktail of drugs that had kept her under, and it was anyone’s guess when she’d finally show signs of waking up. He’d been at the hospital for nearly 12 hours now, in and out, trying to pass the time. He’d graduated out of his crutches in the days gone by waiting, and was still hobbling around, but hobbling around freely nonetheless. The doctors said he needed to move around as much as possible, at least the pacing counted for his step count each day.

Hannah had sent a message to the hospital asking for any news that morning. Kaiden’s finger refused to press the send button on his message. No, nothing yet. Even his own mother was asking. Shepard has become a kind of dream for both of them. If she couldn’t have her happy ending, at least he could have his. It was too disheartening to tell them the truth. What if she never woke up?

“Good morning, Commander. Glad to finally see those pretty brown eyes of yours.”  
The doctors cheerful voice startled him out of his trance, he’d almost nodded off. He blinked, looking at her face, and there they were. Her eyes. Big and brown and alive. They were staring intently at the doctor, transfixed.

“You’re in a hospital in London, Commander. You’re safe. Your husband is here, do you see? Kaiden is right here, dear.”

Husband? The question always left Kaiden’s lips. Oh shit, that’s right. The doctor came closer to her, taking a light and shining it in her eyes. She seemed pleased with the results, smiling, and writing something on her clipboard. “Can you follow my finger with your eyes for me? Good job. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands here. Your husband is right here, do you see him? I’m going to message Chakwas that you’re awake and she’ll be in to see you in no time I’m sure. You remember Dr. Chakwas? Of course you do.” 

She spoke as if she were speaking to a child, ending every sentence on a high note, like she was always asking a question, never leaving time for Shepard to respond between them. Not that she showed any indication that she would. She just stared, her eyes unblinking, her face blank of expression. Her eyes shifted toward Kaiden, then toward the doctor. No expression. No look of familiarity. Just a blank stare.  
“Is she okay?” Kaiden asked. He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. He wondered if she could even feel it. Her hands were still so cold.  
“Her reaction is to be expected.”

The Doctor scribbled something down, notably not answering his question. “It’s never like in the vids, where they just get up and everything is fine. She’s being introduced back to a lot of stimuli. Talk to her a bit. I’m going to call Dr. Chakwas.”  
And then she was gone, the door creaking shut behind her, as if what had occurred wasn’t anything short of a miracle.

“Jane,” Kaiden said. He pressed her hand to his cheek. He hadn’t shaved in a while. She used to hate that. When she would touch his scruff when it got too long. She would laugh and say he felt like a cactus and demand he shaved before he came close to her. In private, he used to rub his cheek against hers and she would scream and laugh. Most people would be shocked at the sight — in some ways Shepard was just like her mother. Tough to crack though that business-like exterior. He remembered the first time he made her laugh. It had taken him what? Six months to crack her exterior? It wasn’t for lack of trying. It became almost a game, before he’d really known her. Him and Joker. How can we make the Commander crack? Weeks of quick-witted comments, teasing, gags, and you know what go her?

They were waiting to refuel at the Citadel and drinking at a bar. Everyone was relaxing. Having fun. Shepard was watching over them, listening without adding to the conversation. He and Joker were playing a game Kaiden did with his friends in high school. Someone takes a drink, the other tries to make them laugh and spit it out.

“Hey Joker, you heard of Newton’s First Law of thermodynamics?”

“An object are rest stays at rest?”

“What about Murphy’s Law?”

“Anything can go wrong will go wrong.”

Kaiden smiled. His dad had told him this one. It never failed him. Joker took a drink in anticipation of the punchline.

“What's about Cole's law?”

He shook his head no.

“Oh, it’s this thin-slice cabbage dripped in mayonnaise and sour cream—“  
Jokers eyes began to water, he pounded the table, struggling to swallow his drink. Someone laughed, a voice he didn’t know. He glanced up. The commander was covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes closed. He hadn’t realized she was paying attention, her eyes were still down on the data pad she’d been working on intently. She laughed again. To his surprise, she snorted. Joker finally spit out his drink, which only made her laugh harder, still snorting. Kaiden looked around. He hadn’t noticed that the rest of the crew had left. No one else was around to witness what had happened.

“Commander! Didn’t know you had a sense of humor!”

She composed herself. Wiped a tear from her eye. “I hate my laugh,” she told him. Had she always been that pretty? He’d never really seen her smile. She had dimples—no, not dimples—just the one. On the left side of her face. It made her smile a bit crooked. Later, she would tell Kaiden it was from when she was a kid. Someone’s varren got her in the face, bit right through her cheek.  
That dimple was still there. If anything, it was deeper now, against the fading scars on her face from Cerberus. It was hard to believe she had once been so stern, so intimidating. He liked the person he was around her.

“I’m right here, you’re safe, you hear me? It’s Kaiden. I’m right here.”

Maybe he imagined it. The flick of familiarity in her eyes. The way she blinked. But he was desperate. Her hand twitched. That we was sure of. Her fingers made a motion as if to pinch his cheek. No, get away from me! Stop it! Kaiden! You know I hate that! The sound of her peals of laughter rang in his ears.  
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll shave by the next time you see me,” he reassured her. She smiled with her eyes; he was sure of it. Is that even possible? To smile with just your eyes?

Chakwas came though the door, she still had gloves on from another patient. She took them off and threw them in a biohazard container, washing her hands quickly in the sink before rushing over to Shepard’s bedside.

“You had us all worried sick for no reason,” Chakwas said to her, sounding cross, but still smiling. “Best sleep I bet you’ve had in years, I bet. You’re not in any pain, are you? Give me two blinks for no, one blink for yes.”

And there it was, clear as day. Two blinks. Kaiden pressed her hand closer to his cheek, biting his lip, holding back tears. He hadn’t imagined it. She understood him. She was here. Broken and bruised but surviving. More than he could have asked for.

“Hannah’s been sending messages all morning. Could you run to the comm room and give her a quick update? I’ll stay with Shepard, run a few tests until you get back.”

He knew he needed to, but he couldn’t stand the sight of letting her go. Not again. Not after he just got her back. Maybe he was reading into her eyes a bit too much. She gave him a reassured glance, as if to say: Go. It’s my mom. Please.

He kissed her hand, placing it back on her slowly rising chest. “I’ll be right back. I’ll say hi to your mom for you,” he told her. Any onlookers might have laughed at the sight of him, he’d surely broken the record for fastest limping man. But he was making up for lost time. And God knows they’ve had more than their share of lost time.


	5. I'm Right Here

She met his parents. Briefly. Once.

They’d given him a call on his omnitool one evening. It was just before they’d lost the Normandy—before he’d lost her.

They were always on the fence about Shepard. He hadn’t told his father about the fraternization yet, but he must have known, whenever she came up guilt was written all over his face. He certainly wasn’t a fan of the recent mutiny mission to Ios. His mother had always been the kind of person who said whatever made him happy was good enough for her, but he knew she read the news, wondered if his Commanding Officer was insane for the things she said about the Reapers. At least Kaiden knew she was a little bit insane. He hadn’t let on how close they really were, not yet. Not until whatever they had together had a shape, a name. His parents had just gotten back from a trip to his grandmothers house.

“The drive took us long enough. You know your dad doesn’t trust the AI to drive — I swear you’re the last man in Vancouver to drive manually,” his mother teased.

“It’s not that I don’t trust the AI — I just trust myself more.” Kaiden smiled at this memory. Later, he would use the excuse that there was some bad blood since one almost caved his son’s skull in. And Kaiden would say, come on, it’s all water under the bridge now. It was just one time. It always made his mother frown when he said that. He never let on how much danger he was really in.

“What, you gonna start vacuuming yourself now? Don’t trust the robot to do it?” Kaiden said. His dad opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

He heard the door open and close behind him. Shepard. Her eyes widened, afraid of intruding. She tried to slip away, back through the door. “Wait, come back.”

She paused, looking at him with an expression of puzzlement. “It’s okay. It’s not urgent. I can talk to you later.” She kept her voice low, like they were teenagers, and she’d snuck into his bedroom window one night and didn’t want to be caught. He smiled and gestured for her to come closer. She did so, timidly. God, he could count the amount of times he’d used the word timidly to describe her on one hand. Timid like a lion, she was. But she had her moments.

“Mom, Dad, Commander Shepard’s here. Commander, these are my parents.”

She gave him a look of utter befuddlement. Glared at him. He grinned. Payback. “Hi Mrs. and Commander Alenko.” God, he wanted a camera, the look on her face was priceless. “How are you?”

“Kaiden turn the camera around, let me see her,” his mom commanded. He obeyed. “Good evening, Commander. So nice to finally meet you — what an honor, first human Spectre? You do us all proud. How are things going out there? You keeping my boy safe?”

“You know. The more things change, the more they stay the same.” She looked uneasy. Kaiden could have laughed. Someone intimidated Commander Shepard? And that person was his own mother?

“You look exhausted sweetheart, haven’t you been sleeping? Of course you haven’t, don’t lie to me. I’m a nurse, did Kaiden ever tell you that?”

“Yes mom,” Kaiden chimed in, “everyone in the galaxy knows you’re a nurse by now.”

“Hush. She needs some of that tea your dad got me — the kind with the lavender. Oh, I give it to all my patients. You’ll love it — Kaiden you know what it looks like. Get some when you’re on the citadel next time. You probably need it to.”

“And some decent food. Your old man knows better than anyone the crap they feed you.”  
“I know dad. I will, I promise.”

“And call us every once in a while, won’t you? I worry more than I ever have, you know that. The worlds been crazy lately.”

“Yes mom, I know that.”

“Okay darling. We love you. Keep making us proud.”

“Love you mom. Love you dad. Talk to you soon. Stay safe out there.”

He hung up the phone, grinning at her. Her eyebrows were knitted together. “Are they always like that?”

“Yeah. That’s the Alenko’s for you. Gotta love ‘em.”

She sighed. “God, I can’t imagine how they’ve survived that long on earth. They seem too nice to get by without getting eaten alive.”

He stared at her. Of course he knew enough about her childhood, about her days on the streets, in a gang, before she was forced into military school and into Hannah’s care. Not a lot, but enough. The way she would smile sometimes as she recounted a memory of her early years. But that’s just how it was growing up on earth, wasn’t it? She would say, and laugh in a way that seemed as uncomfortable for her as it was for him, glancing at him for validation.

No he wanted to say. I grew up here too. 1000 miles away but I grew up here too. But who is he to tell her that her childhood had been traumatic, abnormal? Who is he to say that she could’ve had a better life if the sun has just shown on her a little bit more? What would that accomplish? perhaps convincing herself that everybody went through this, that this was normal, was her way of getting through the day. If everyone grew up that way then it couldn’t have been that bad could it? If nobody ‘s childhood was happy, what right did she have to complain that her own was miserable? How would convincing her that there was no reason for her to go through what she did help her in anyway?

Of course he’d come with his own share of scars. Jump Zero. Rana. But at least he know there were people rooting for him, even if he never understood what he was going through. Someone who treasured his childhood drawings like they were made of gold, who took picture of him on his birthday in front of his cake. He’d asked Hannah already, back when he was still lurking in church basements, showing her photo to anyone who cared enough to look his way. She had as much luck as he did. No childhood photos. Just military ID photos. Group photos. Of course, Shepard has only spent three years under her care before she enlisted on her own, but in those three years she never got a good photo for her.

“She hates her nose,” Hannah told her during one of her calls. “I don’t know why – you’d never even guess the amount of times she’s broken it. She’d always cover her face if I tried to take a picture.”

Did she? She’d never mentioned it, although she rarely expressed any feelings toward her own appearance. Maybe she grew out of her self-consciousness. He told himself he needed to ask her about it one day. He loved her nose — which felt like an odd thing to say. It was long, with a big bump in the middle, slightly hooked, a little crooked from the many times she’d broken it throughout her life. It made her profile look sophisticated, he thought, regal. He liked the way it brushed across his cheek when she kissed him. Was that a weird thing to say? Probably. Maybe he wouldn’t say that part.

That morning when Kaiden arrived, Shepard was already awake, sitting up even. The doctor from yesterday was doing some kind of physical therapy with her — something about her cybernetics needing a little help linking up with her nervous system again. She was handing her a red foam ball, having her squeeze it in her hand, and toss it back to her. Her motions were strained, weak. She didn’t have the strength yet to toss it back into the doctors hands a foot away from her. But she would, Kaiden was sure. He leaned against the wall and watched, not wanting to interrupt, sipping his coffee and smiling. It wouldn’t be an easy road for them, not in the slightest, but at least they had each other. At least they had both survived. He remember the people back in the church basement, how lucky they would have told him he was. He tried not to take that luck for granted.

She glanced up from where her head was perched on a pile of pillows. Smiled. Made a motion with her hand, tossing the ball in his direction. To him? At him? It fell short. Fell off the edge of the bed.

“This way Commander, focus,” the doctor chastised her. Shepard rolled her eyes and focused her attention back on the doctor. Did as she was asked. Kaiden smiled at her, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. Same Shepard. Well, not same. She’d changed so much in those years. After that day on the Citadel, it was like they’d cracked something in her, some hard exterior hiding her light. She seemed happier from that day forward. Slowly, she warmed up, to him and Joker at least. She smiled when Joker said something stupid. She stopped bringing her work with her everywhere. Her voice wasn’t so deep, business-like, stern. A few times, in private, if she was updating him on a report, she’d say something outrageous just to see if he was paying attention.

“Wait, really?” He’s say.

“No, I’m just fucking with you, Alenko.” No change in her expression, but a smile in her eyes. It was easy to see where she got her demeanor from when he heard about Hannah. He wondered if she’d ever had any real friends before she joined the Alliance, before she’d joined the Normandy. He wondered if she’d ever had the time to have fun, be a child for once. He felt privileged to see this side of her, the side she saved only for those she loved. He liked to think the Normandy wasn’t all bad for her, that her friends drew a kind of softness out of her, warmed her heart, made her the best person she could be. The Shepard he met all those years ago wouldn’t have paid him any mind. He hoped she’d been as happy as she seemed, back before these past few months sucked the joy out of their lives.

The doctor finished up their session, scribbling a few notes on her chart. “See you this afternoon, Commander. Get some rest.” The door closed behind her, finally giving them some space. Kaiden took his place beside her.

“Hey, you,” Kaiden said. Shepard made a motion toward the ball at the end of the bed. Kaiden handed it to her, and she passed it from one hand to another, trying to get her limbs to cooperate. “You’re supposed to be getting rest.”

“And you’re not supposed to be able to visit me, dearest husband.” Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was there. Kaiden could barely contain himself at the sound of her voice. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to leap for joy. But Shepard wasn’t much for big, emotional reactions, and he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. “Wish I could remember our wedding.”

“About that…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know was the only way,” she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. For a moment, he thought she’d nodded off. “How long has it been? They won’t tell me. You’re looking a little worse for wear. Don’t tell me it’s been another two years.”

“Just under a month. You’re just in time for your birthday.”

“Didn’t think I’d get another one of those. What happened? I don’t remember much after…after I left you on the Normandy.”

He remembered. Those had almost been their last words to each other. He still held a thread of resentment for being left behind, but that was a discussion for another day. A better day.  
“We won,” he told her, “you did it. We won.”

“I figured that much. We’re alive right now, aren’t we?” She smiled. “Nothing? It’s really over?”

“We’re rebuilding. Lots of casualties. But it’s over. Really. It’s over.”

She breathed a tense breath of relief. “Who’d we lose?”

“Anderson. You missed his memorial. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” she said. She wouldn’t look at him, but he caught a glance at her face, fighting back tears. Her voice warbled for a moment. “What about everyone else? My mom?”

“Your mom is off-planet. Space travel has been limited, and comms are up and down, getting better though. Hannah knows you’re alive. Liara too. And Chakwas—“

“I know. She was here this morning,” she interrupted.

“The rest of the crew has only been able to check in once or so — just letting me know they made it. I haven’t gotten ahold of anyone else since. As far as I know, they’re all off working their asses off. Trying to piece together whatever we can.”

“I wish I was out there,” she said, “I need to get out of here. I’m going stir crazy.”

“Woah, you’ve been conscious for what? 16 hours? Relax. You deserve it. You’re doing all you can right now by trying to get better.”

“I know. You’re right. You’re always right,” she said. She stilled her hands. Let the ball rest on her lap.

“Think it’s finally time to retire? Like we always talked about?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m done yet.” Her eyes flickered shut.

“Tired?”

“Probably more than I should be.”

“I should let you rest.” He kissed her, on the top of her head. Felt her warmth. Felt her small exhale as she smiled.

“Kaiden?” She said as he pulled away.

“What?”

“You know my mom is going to kill you for changing my records to make you my next-of-kin, right?”

“Oh I know.”

“Do you? Do you really? She is going to annihilate you. Hell hath no fury like Hannah Shepard.” 

“I know.”

“If you say so. It’s been an honor, Major.”

He looked at her, one last time. Her face relaxed. Her dimple, her scars, the worry mark between her eyes. It all melted away. He drank his coffee and reached out one last time to his teammates. ‘Shepard’s alive. We’re in London. You better be taking care of yourselves. I hope we all see each other again soon.’


	6. Happy Birthday, Jane

She was in trouble. Of course she was in trouble. They all were now.  
Shepard picked at the bottom of her shoe, the rubber part that had been coming off for weeks, months really, that she’d been fixing over and over again with duct tape. 

She was 15 and had just been caught trying to rob a Red Sand dealer for the 10th Street Reds. It wasn’t her first time in trouble, but it was probably the worst. Illegal possession of a firearm, armed robbery, assault. Who knows what else she’d been charged with? They’d lock her up this time for sure, that’s what her parole officer said. But it’s not like he cared that she didn’t have a home, that the only place she had to sleep was on the floor of her friends bother’s apartment, where she had to earn her keep somehow. It’s not like he cared that she hadn’t eaten in two days, that yesterday a good friend had been shot and bled out on the streets, that her jacket was paper-thin and hasn’t been washed in ages and never felt dry. He didn’t care that it was her fucking birthday today, no one did. They’d lock her up anyway, why not go out with a bang? Add assault of an officer in the mix? Winter was dragging its feet into the springtime. At least in jail she’d be warm. At least in jail she’d get clout when she got out for not snitching on anyone. 

But it was not her parole officer who entered her holding cell. It was a woman. Tall, deep tan skin, curly dark hair. She had a clipboard and a smile. Funny. No one ever smiled at her. She must not know what she was in for. 

“Jane Doe. Is that really your name?” 

“What? Something funny to you?” Shepard spat. 

“No, it’s just…you know what a Jane Doe is?” 

“‘Course I do,” Shepard answered, not knowing but not liking the woman’s tone.  
“Then you get that it’s ironic. It’s a name for an unknown woman’s body, which is funny because I don’t know very much about you.” She reaches out a hand. “I’m Commander Hannah Shepard. Wonderful to meet your acquaintance, Jane.” 

Shepard hesitated. Had anyone ever offered her a hand before? She took it. She was covered in calluses, betraying her neat, desk-job-looking uniform. 

“I’m told when you were arrested last night you gave the officers quite a bit of trouble, am I correct? Something about Biotic powers, throwing one of them against a wall?” 

Shepard refused to meet her eye. She knew this game. They didn’t have proof, huh? And now they wanted a confession. “I don’t know what you’re taking about.” 

“You’re not in trouble, Jane. I’m not with the police. I’m with the Alliance. Can you at least confirm for me that you have a biotic implant?”

What the fuck did the space narcs want with her? Shepard’s hand went instantly to the scar just behind her left ear. She’d saved up for months for it, for some back-ally dealer to put it in. She was lucky it wasn’t botched. Most couldn’t say that. 

“Yes.” 

“And you’re a talented biotic, aren’t you Jane?” 

She grinned. They liked to play hockey in the back alley. Her team always won with just a bit of biotic energy. Of course she was accused of cheating, but anyone could save up for an implant. She was just using what she had to her advantage. 

“I’m alright,” she crossed her arms and looked up at the woman. Her chest was decorated with medals. Bet she could sell those for a pretty penny. 

“I have vids of it. You’re powerful. Talented. You have a lot of potential,” Hannah told her. “I want to make you an offer.” 

“Oh?” 

“I’m starting a military camp. For troubled youths. When you turn eighteen, you can enlist in the military, even skip a few ranks if you do well. I think you’d be an excellent candidate.” 

“Fuck that. You think I’m gonna go somewhere where some bitch is going to tell me to crawl though the mud and shit? Hard pass.” 

“I will be the bitch yelling at you, and I think you actually may like it.” She smiled again. Okay. Shepard had to admit, she liked her. Just a bit. Adults never swore around her. As if she would be offended by a few F-bombs when she’d seen more than a few friends shot down in the streets. 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course, you always have a choice Considering you have priors and no attorney, I figure you’ll be locked away for just under three years. Same length you’d be at my camp. I, however, can promise you that I’ll do my best to expunge your record when you turn eighteen, whether you decide to stay with the military or not, as long as I see you put in your best effort.” 

“So let me get this straight. I go with you, and I have no record when I leave?” 

“That is correct.” 

“And when I turn 18 I can go? I’m not going to be enlisted?” 

“Not unless you want to be. But if I’m giving you a clean slate, maybe you’ll want to put it to good use?” 

Jane considered it for a moment. The records thing didn’t matter much, she’d have more and worse things on it when she got out. But maybe she could learn to use a gun. Make herself more useful. Either way, it was three years of knowing where her next meal was coming from. 

“How’s the food?” 

Hannah laughed. “I’m not gonna lie, not great. Better than Juvie, I can tell you that much.” 

Okay. Jane liked her. Her parole officer wouldn’t have given her such a straight answer. He would have yelled. Told her to get her priorities straight. At least Hannah humored her. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go with you.” 

“Wonderful.” She glanced down at her chart, seemingly looking for paperwork she needed for find. “Oh, well, will you look at that. I almost didn’t notice the date today. Happy birthday, Jane.”  
***  
It had been a rough day for the commander. She’d been awake for a week now. Physical therapy was going well. Her limbs and her implants seemed to be co-operating again. But it was hard work. It was like being a baby again, leaning against the railing in the physical therapy room, trying to put one foot in front of the other. It was hard going from someone strong, someone who could outrun an Olympian in armor, who could lift a car with her mind, to someone who couldn’t get her fingers to cooperate enough to tie her shoes. She was exhausted.  
Not to mention she was supposed to have seen her mother that day, but the comms on the Kilimanjaro had gone dark. Shepard was worried, with no outlet to pour the worry to. Under any other circumstances she would have been at the ship in a heartbeat, finding out \ what was wrong, fixing whatever needed fixed. But she could no longer fly into the universe than she could walk herself out the hospital doors. 

And then there were her burns. Bright, red, angry. She found that she had no temperature regulation anymore. It spread from her left shoulder all the way down to her knees, covering her chest, her arms. No one could figure out quite what had happened, her armor had practically melted into her. Lucky, they kept saying. So lucky you survived. No other confirmed cases of survivors who were that close to the beacon. What a miracle. 

Of course, it was difficult to feel like a miracle. She could hardly leave her room between the fear of the flu and her limited mobility. Her friends were scattered across the world, some not even knowing she lived. Kaiden was there as much as he could he but she was lonely. Tired of feeling helpless. Tired of being still. She remembered what Tali had once said, about the engine being too quiet to sleep, and Shepard too felt that. When was the last time she had slept on solid ground? She could hardly remember. Being on a ship, there was a kind of quiet humm, a sort of vibration under your feet. She could hardly describe it, but she noted its absence. It kept her awake at night, the silence. It felt like something terrible was going to happen, like in those old horror vids, when silence meant the building of tension the moment before the killer would strike. It felt like suffocating. It felt like floating in open space. 

Of course she mentioned this, politely, in a way that didn’t make her should crazy. “Of course,” the doctor said. “I can’t sleep without white notice either.” She got her a little white machine with shit like whale songs and rain. Somehow that was worse. It didn’t fucking rain in space. She hasn’t heard rain on the roof since she was a child, and that was not something that came with a wave of pleasant nostalgia. 

“You look exhausted,” Kaiden told her. He had brought her flowers, for her birthday. She wasn’t much of a flower person, she had to admit, he’d given them or her with an apology. Businesses were still closed from the destruction, it was the best he could do, even even the bakery was closed so he couldn’t find a cake. He promised something better when she got out, but it was the thought that counted. “What have you been doing in here? You need your sleep if you want to get better.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” She snapped, before stopping herself. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit restless. That’s all.” 

“I know. But you’ll be out of here soon. I promise. If I stayed with you, would that help you get some rest?” 

“Yeah. I think so. Thanks, Kaiden.” 

And she did. Kaiden rested his head on her bed, rubbing the top of her hand until her eyes flickered shut, eventually dozing off himself, the sound of her soft breathing and warmth lulling him to sleep. It had been the first time in what, months since either had slept so soundly? 

It was interpreted when Kaiden smelled smoke. Too close for comfort. 

“Jane,” he tried to rouse her, shake her awake. For a moment, she was still, deeply asleep. Her eyes snapped open. He saw the fear. The panic. He’d be lying if he didn’t feel it to, the things it brought to mind. People, buildings, lives burnt to the ground. The Normandy. Illium. Earth. More pain than pleasure, not the smell of birthday candles and fireworks. 

“Jane—“ he was cut off as she sat up. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t looking at him, but through him, as if she could see something a million miles behind him. Her face was expressionless as she glowed with biotic energy. He knew that face, that feeling, of forgetting where you where. That you were safe. That you were still here. He reached out to touch her arm. To ground her. To bring her back. 

“Jane—“ 

And then he felt his ribs crack as a biotic kick sent him out of his chair, flying backward into the wall.  
Actions


	7. Seeing Red

Today is Shepard’s birthday.

She is 16.

The last few years she has been thriving. Some of the girls in her squadron don’t adjust as well. They’re used to their own rooms, sleeping in, doing what they want. They don’t handle the responsibility well. They don’t handle the pressure well. But Jane thrives.

After a year her life on the streets is forgotten. She is the first to rise. The first to fold her bedsheets into corners to fight you could bounce a coin off them (and she has, for good measure.) She is the first to stand under the hot showers, enjoying every moment, until she steps out and her skin is so hot steam rises off of it. She brushes her hair, tucks it into the same right braid and then into a bun, and is ready with a crisp uniform and boots laced up before the other girls are even awake. In her spare few moments, she journals. It’s what Hannah said she should do.

All her memories of the streets have all but faded into nothing. She can barely remember the names of the friends she had, of the people she hated, and why. She barely remembers why any of that stuff used to matter to her. Why did she take so much pride in her gang? What a stupid thing to fight for. What a stupid thing to die for. She counts down the days until she is 18, no so that she can leave, but she so can enlist. So she can make Hannah proud.

There is only one moment where she’s brought back to the streets. She is playing Brick-Ball with the boys. It’s a game kind of like volleyball, but with biotics. No hands allowed. Most kids call it Brick-Ball because they have to play it over the brick wall they climb during drills, and also because most of them don’t know their own strength and the ball hits you like a bag of bricks. It’s a rare occurrence someone doesn’t get sent to the nurse.

Jane was distracted that day. She hasn’t seen Hannah at the mess hall that morning. She was always in the mess hall for breakfast. She always said good morning to her. She wondered if something was wrong.

“Hey, Red, on your left!”

A sharp inhale of breath. Her heart seized. The call had come from a scrawny boy, one year her senior. They’d never spoken but she knew he was from Detroit, just like her. Fuck. Did he know? After how many years of hiding where she can come from, did he know? She wanted to hide her face from the world. It could be a death sentence for her, if somewhere knew about her and the 10th Street Reds. Not everyone was as ready and willing to denounce their loyalty to their former gang. There were too many people in this world who would love to stick a knife between her ribs just because of where she came from and who she had pledged her loyalty to when she was just ten years old. Her hands shook, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. The ball landed in the earth next to her, leaving a sizable dent in the ground. She made eye contact with the boy and took off toward the latrines.  
She ran until her lungs threatened to give up, which was quite a while, she could say proudly. She wrapped her arms around herself. Took a deep breath. She had to find Hannah. Had to get transferred. Had to—

“Hey.” She glanced up. The boy had followed her. She fell backwards, cutting her hand on a sharp rock, backing herself against the wall. She looked up in fear, while he looked up in confusion.

“What do you want?” She spat.

“Um…nothing?” He reached out a hand. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

She glanced at his hand. Glared. “Why’d you call me ‘red’?”

“‘Cause I don’t know your name, and your hair is red? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of that one before.” He shook his hand, gesturing for her to take it. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’d call you something else if I knew your name. Mine’s Lamar.”

“Jane.” She took his hand and he pulled her up. It was only then that she realized her hand was slick with blood, and she’d smeared it all over his arm. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you alright?” He asked, rubbing her blood off on his pants.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She made a fist, trying to staunch the blood flow. It just kept going. “Shit. Guess I’m on my way to the infirmary then. God, inspections are today. You better change before the Commander gives us both a referral.”

“She’s out today, didn’t you hear? Some family emergency?”

“What?”

“Well, Leon told James, who told Keenan, who told Eli, who told—“

“What happened?” She spat.

“Oh. Um. Well…it’s just a rumor. But um…they said her wife’s ship went down.”

“What?”

“It crashed. No survivors. She’s still on base waiting to depart if you wanted to…”

Jane hardly heard him for the rushing in her ears. She’d met her wife, once, briefly. She was a Rear Admiral names Anne, a bit older than her, with long blonde hair. She called Hannah her “Hannah-Banana,” and kissed her on the nose. It took every bit of strength for Jane not to burst out laughing. Hannah Banana? She’d seen her commander yell at a grown man twice her size until he was in tears. She’d been the only one in her squadron to meet her. Hannah had called her to her quarters just for that. It made her feel special, that she’d gotten to meet her, to see Hannah in such a vulnerable position. She’d liked Anne. Hannah had explained they wanted to move nearby after Anne was done with her deployment in the Hades Gamma, and that they wanted to start their family together.

“Jane! Wait!” She barely realized she’d taken off running. She turned back towards Lamar, who was blushing. “I…Um…if you’re sensitive about your red hair. You shouldn’t be. I think it’s really—“

She turned heel and ran before she could hear the rest of his sentence, refusing to stop until she reached the commanders quarters on the other side of the camp. The clouds that had been threatening rain all morning finally gave way with an icy downpour, quickly soaking her to the bone. She pulled the key out from around her neck, the only spare Hannah had. She’d given it to her for emergencies. She unlocked it and pushed open the door without knocking.

“Hannah?” She called. She wasn’t in the living room. She saw a light on in her tiny kitchen, following it, tracking mud and rain in behind her. Her boots squeaked on the linoleum. “Commander?”

She was wrapped in a blanket with her head on the kitchen table. She glanced up. Her eyes were puffy and red. It startled Jane to her very core. She’d never seen a commanding officer like this. She’d never seen Hannah like this.

“Come here, baby,” she said, “she flipped the blanket off from her shoulders, wrapping Jane in it, wiping the water from her face. “You’re freezing. What happened to you hand?“

“Hannah,” she grabbed her arm. She was still in her pajamas, a pink t-shirt and checkered pants. “Anne—I’m—”

Hannah hugged her close. Jane could smell her hair, her shampoo, feel the softness of her skin, recently wet. Of course she’d been crying.

“I know. They told me this morning,” she said. Her voice was low. Surprisingly calm. Like it hadn’t quite sunk in yet. “I’m leaving tomorrow to go help retrieve her body and collect her parents for the funeral. I don’t think I’m coming back to camp. Not anytime soon. My replacement is on their way to relieve me.”

Replacement? A knot welled up in Jane’s throat again. What could she say? Hannah had just lost everything. Who was she to complain? To protest? To make things harder than they had to be? This camp was Hannah’s pride and joy. Of course she wouldn’t want to leave. There was no reason for her to cry and protest, to tell her she couldn’t do this without her. She had no right. But she couldn’t help the tears that came, flowing down her cheeks, her chin trembling.

“I want you to come with me.”

“Ma’am? Is that…allowed?” She felt stupid asking. Shepard was a commander, she could probably do whatever she wanted. Of course, she was also a commander with a real penchant for rules and protocols.

“Anne…we wanted to surprise you. When she came home. We were going to adopt you,” she told her. “I don’t plan on putting that on hold just because…it’s what she would have wanted.”

“Ma’am?”

“You don’t have to…I just…I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

To this day, Jane still considered it to be the most indescribable mix of emotions she’d ever felt. The joy of belonging to someone. The pride of being a Shepard, not a Doe, her destiny no longer zipped up in a body bag or locked in a cell. The sorrow for Anne, for Hannah. The fear and excitement of going off planet for the first time. The guilt that it should be under better circumstances.

“I won’t let you go alone,” she told Hannah, and she hugged her again, tightly, crushing her tiny shoulders.  
***  
It went like this:

They are repairing a building next door. A contained fire breaks out. The smell of smoke, stronger than normal, wafts through the building.

Kaiden shakes her. He smells the smoke. She sits up. Without a word, he’s pinned against a wall, the wind knocked out of him. He feels his side, guessing at the possibility of a broken rib or two. He picks himself up. She lunges at him. Like an animal. Her coordination is still off. She falls to the ground. The security guard hears the commotion and comes in. Tries to pin her arms behind her. Another biotic kick and the guard is on his back. A nurse comes in. Manages to subdue her with something clear in a needle. She goes still. They move her to a ward in the lower half of the building, a private room with a one-way mirror, and handcuff her to the bed. They disable her implant. She is still out-cold.

Kaiden watches the security footage again and again with Chakwas. “I startled her, it was my fault,” he chokes, still holding his side. It’ll be a hell of a bruise, at the very least. He refuses treatment, inciting it’s not that bad. It is, but he’s had worse, and he’s fed up with doctors. He doesn’t want them to know how badly she’s hurt him.

“Kaiden, this is exactly what I was afraid of. That unusually brain activity. I think she might be—“

“If she wanted to really hurt me she could have,” Kaiden interrupts, refusing to let her get the words out. “She can reave, you know that. If she wanted me dead I would be.“

“Listen to me. I don’t want it to be true any more than you do. But face the facts,” Chakwas insists. “We’ve had dozens of civilians on psychological lockdown since the war ended because they’ve been near the reaper crash cites. They were indoctrinated with a percentage of the exposure that Shepard has had. I don’t think there’s a single other person who’s had more unprotected contact with reaper tech in the galaxy. You want to stand here and tell me that hadn’t affected her mind? The scans don’t lie.”

“OR. She’s been fucking traumatized over and over again for the past five years. You of all people know what’s she’s been through, doc. You really think anyone can come out of all that with the sun shinning out their ass? Huh? She was fine a few hours ago.”

“We have to be safe, Kaiden. You know what she’s capable of. If she’s not in control of herself, she’s too dangerous.”

“She can barely fucking walk, what do you think she’s gonna do, huh? And what, she’s going to wake up alone and more helpless than she was before, and you think that’s going to do what to her? You think that’s going to make her feel safe? You think that’s going to make her get better?”

“If she’s indoctrinated, it’s not about making her better. It’s about keeping everyone else safe until we figure out what to do.”

“She’s not indoctrinated!”

“She’s shown the signs of every other patient we’ve had. Insomnia, nightmares, hallucinations, irritability. She’s been like that since Earth was attacked, I was just too blind to put the pieces together.”

Kaiden paused. Lowered his gaze. “She didn’t tell me that.”

“She didn’t want to worry you.”

“She was under a lot of stress. Please. When she wakes up you’ll see it.”  
Chakwas refused to look at him. She started determinedly at one of the charts on her clipboard.  
“There’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind, Alenko. I won’t risk it. I won’t risk my other patients. Or my staff. Or another friend.”

“And what are you gonna do I tell you I haven’t been sleeping either, huh? That if you think she’s been brainwashed you might as well lock me up too, because I’ve been with her every step of the way.”

Chakwas didn’t look up. She made a show of flipping though her clipboard, though her eyes started forward, not reading anything in particular. She glanced at her omnitool. “They finally got through to Hannah. She wants to talk to you.”

“Why don’t you talk to her, huh? So I don’t have to deliver the news of your mistakes?” But Kaiden headed upstairs to the comm room anyway, slamming the door behind him. He stomped up two flights of stairs before the pain in his ribs reminded him that there was an elevator. He stepped onto the next floor leaning against the elevator walls, rubbing at the dull ache behind his eyes that hadn’t left him since Shepard went missing. He was supposed to ask Chakwas for a refill of his migraine meds before everything that happened. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but pain or not he needed a few days to cool down before he saw her again.  
He paused outside the comm room. He had a feeling his headache wasn’t going anywhere. He had a feeling the yelling wasn’t over yet today.


	8. That's an Order

The comm flickers on and there she is. Her eyes are down at a data pad in her hands a single strand of hair falls from her right bun. Something is off. 

“Admiral,” Kaiden says. “Sorry it took me so long, there was—“ 

“I know what happened.” She still doesn’t look up, still working on her datapad. She types something. Her lips are pursed. “I just had all her files sent to me.” 

“I don’t think she’s indoctrinated. I was talking to her this morning…she seemed fine. Normal.”  
“I see.” She still refused to look up. “I actually have some questions for Dr. Chakwas if you wouldn’t mind sending her up.” 

Kaiden frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was go talk to Chakwas right now. “She has a busy schedule today, but I can see if she’s free. It’s not something I can help with?” 

She finally looks up, her eyes full of fire. “Not unless you want to explain to me why you’re listed as my daughters husband? Because she tells me everything, you know. And so I think I’d know if my own daughter got married.” 

Kaiden swallowed. Hell hath no fury like Hannah Shepard. “Hannah, I’m sorry. It was the only way they’d let me see her — only friends and family were allowed—“ 

“You’re a Spectre. You couldn’t demand to be let in?” 

“And what, make a huge scene? Have every reporter in this hospital by morning pestering her? No one knows she’s alive yet and I’m sure she want to keep it that way.” 

“And I suppose you had to be listed as her next of kin as well? Making all her decisions for her? What’s next, her records start calling her an Alenko?” 

“I would never. I know how much being a Shepard means to her,” Kaiden interrupted. “A friend did it. She said it was the only way I was going to see her.” 

“Then give me the friends name and I’ll have them discharged.

“No. Hannah. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I never meant to go above your authority. But I’m the only person she has right now. We couldn’t even talk to you this morning, what if there was an emergency? I talked to Jane. She said she understood. Why can’t you?” 

Hannah pursed her lips, finally putting down the datapad. She ran a hand through the top of her hair, and more curls fell out. She took her hair tie out and re-did it, placing the tie between her teeth. Sure, Kaiden thought, maybe they weren’t biologically related. But some of their mannerisms were so similar, you could have fooled him. How many times had he seen her do the same thing in the bathroom mirror? In the mess hall in the morning, looking at her reflection in the infirmary window? She even pursed her lips the same way when she was upset — it was her tell in poker, and the start of every conversation they’d ever had about what was on her mind. 

She held his gaze for a long time, narrowing her eyes. Finally, she cleared her throat, speaking in a stern voice. “Fine, you’re right. I’m not happy, but you’re right.” 

“Jane said you’d be pissed.” 

“Oh did she?” 

“What were the words? ‘Hell hath no fury like Hannah Shepard.” 

He thought he caught a smile on her lips. Quickly. Fleetingly. Blink and you almost missed it. “That’s my Jane.” 

“Hannah, I’m sorry. I really am.” 

“Oh, save it. You will be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but you will be getting an earful once my daughter is out of the woods and in my arms again. I. Am. Still. Furious.” Her voice was serious, but he swore she still smiled a bit with her eyes. That’s not furious, he wanted to say. I’ve heard enough stories from Shepard. This is far from furious. 

“You still need to talk to Chakwas?”

“Yes. I want the full run-down on this ‘indoctrination’ business. Of course I’ve heard it on the news, and what Jane told me…you really think she’s still in there?” 

“I told you. She talking to me this morning. Everything was normal. Well, as normal as it can be.” 

“So what do you think happened?” 

“I think she’s scared. I think she’s got a lot of mental scars to work through, whether she wants to admit it or not. I think I startled her and I should have been more careful.” Kaiden shrugged. It was part of life now, for everyone. One day they would work through the sleepless nights, the tiny things that made him jump, the days where he opened it his eyes and forgot that it was over, it was really over, and there was nothing to be afraid of. For now all they could do was put one foot in front of the other and look out for each other, hope that one day they could forget and move on. At least they had survived it all together. Not many people could be so lucky.  
“She could have killed you.” 

“Eh. It’s just something we do to keep the relationship fresh these days,” Kaiden teased, but Hannah wasn’t smiling. “You know what she’s capable of. If she wanted me dead, I would be.”  
Hannah stared at him. Smiled a bit. “She seemed happy this morning? She was laughing?”  
“Happy as she can be. You can imagine how frustrating being stuck in a hospital is for her. I’ve never seen that woman not going a million miles a minute.” 

“Hmm. You bring that out in her, you know that? I could never make her laugh and smile like that. When she started talking to you…I noticed that with her. She started smiling more.” She noticed Kaiden’s smile, and crossed her arms. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving you as pass. I don’t take kindly to things being done behind my back. Especially when it comes to my child. You better be looking after her.” 

“I do my best. I’ll see if Chakwas is available.” 

“Thank you, Alenko. I’m glad we had this talk.” 

“Take care, Admiral. I hope we see you soon.” Kaiden pauses the comm, and stepped out into the hallway, his side still stinging with pain. He shifted his jaw, trying to releasing the tension he’d been holding. He sighed and dialed up Chakwas on his omni-tool. 

“Hannah wants to talk to you when you’re available,” he said without greeting when she picked up. 

“I figured as much. I’ll be up as soon as I finish up here. I set up a comm in Shepard’s room…she won’t be able to see you, but you can talk to her. She’s still a bit groggy.” 

“Does she know what’s happening?” 

“No, I didn’t get the chance. I’ll talk to her if you want.” 

“No. She should hear it from me.” Kaiden squeezed the space between his eyes again, feeling a haze of sleep depravation and stress. He really needed his migraine meds. 

“Kaiden, I hope you can understand. I have to be cautious.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Doesn’t this all just seem too good to be true?” 

Of course it did, but wasn’t that true for everything about Shepard? Too good to be true? She’d come back from the dead once already, and he’d thought the same thing then too. Who was he to question that again? “I just want to talk to Jane right now if that’s okay.” 

“I hope you can understand my decisions, even if you don’t agree.” 

“Talk to you soon.” He hung up unceremoniously, walking toward the elevator, not particularly eager to run into her on her way up to the comm room. He brought up the comm Chakwas had sent to him. Once again the bearer of bad news. “Jane?”

“Kaiden?” Her voice was patchy, soft with sleep. Even under the circumstances it brought a smile to his face. It was how she sounded when she woke up next to him, when she was falling asleep at her desk and had to be dragged to bed. It was the way she spoke when she whispered to him a drunken secret, followed by a laugh and a hiccup. He missed that voice. “What’s happening? Where am I? No one is telling me anything.” 

“This isn’t easy to say to you, Jay,” he told her, leaning against the elevator walls. The doors closed and he let them. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see her, to have to watch her from the other side of a glass wall where she had no idea if he was there or not. He let it stay still on the current floor, hoping no one else needed it. “Chakwas thinks you’re indoctrinated.” 

“What? Why? Did I do something? Did I say something?” He paused, not sure how to answer. Did she really not remember? “Kaiden, what happened?” 

“You attacked me…I’m okay, I promise. Please don’t feel bad.” 

“Are you okay? Kaiden I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I don’t remember, I—“ 

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he interrupted, hearing her voice getting more and more frantic. “It was my fault, I startled you while you were still asleep. I know you didn’t mean to. It’s going to be fine, okay?” 

She was quiet for a long time. When she did speak, it was barely a whisper. “I’d be lying if I said I want afraid.” 

“I’m taking care of it, don’t worry. You’re going to be okay. Chakwas will see that you’re still you and this will all be over before you know it.” 

“No…I’m afraid because…I don’t know. What if Chakwas is right?”


	9. Shore Leave

He wanted to ask her: do you remember our first shore leave together? The first time you actually enjoyed it? 

_He had only been on the Normandy a few months. He still didn’t know the commander that well, but after that time with Joker at the bar, she seemed warmer towards him. They were docked at a small farming colony by the name of Orpheus in the Attican Beta. In retrospect, nothing dire had been going on, but they’d been working hard. It was a well-needed break.  
There was some kind of festival going on, something related to a meteor shower that was scheduled to take place, lots of people drinking and dancing, watching the sky with wonder. Kaiden didn’t know the rest of the crew well yet, but it seemed as good of a time as any to break the ice. They were planning to head out and see what the locals had to offer. _

_They were just leaving when he spotted her in the mess hall, sipping coffee and once again pouring over a datapad, planted to the spot. He sighed. She was alone, it seemed the whole ship had left to do something that day._

_“Hey, Commander,” Kaiden said, stepping out from behind the wall. She glanced up with only her eyes, barely acknowledging him. “Any plans for today?”_

_“I have a ton of stuff to catch up on. I hope these repairs don’t take long — we’re behind schedule.”_

_“Right…listen, there’s some festival going on tonight. A bunch of us are going to go check it out. I thought you might like to come?”_

_She scrunched her eyebrows and looked up, studying him. “Alenko, are you not familiar with what my nickname was…is?”_

_“I can’t say I am.”_

_“I didn’t get the name Commander Killjoy for nothing. Pretty sure Joker still calls me that behind my back. I’m not sure people would want me around.”_

_“I’m sure that’s not true.”_

_“You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I’m not offended. It’s just how it is,” she shrugged, returning her eyes to her datapad._

_“Okay, but you’re never not working. I know that you know how to have fun.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, I know you can learn how to have fun. Don’t you want to prove it to the crew?”_

_“I have nothing to prove. Besides, I really am busy…”_

_“Too busy to build a rapport with your team? You know how important that is.”_

_She rolled her eyes. Smiled, timidly, but a smile nonetheless. “You’re sure you want me to come?”_

_“I’m sure”._

_“I just feel so awkward going out with crew…I feel like I’m intruding. I don’t know how to talk to people unless we’re working on something together.”_

_He started at her. Fought a grin. The commander? Feeling awkward? Who would have guessed? “You’re telling me that you don’t have any friends outside of work?”_

_“I wouldn’t even say that I have friends inside work.”_

_“Come on commander, you and I are friends, right?”_

_She smiled again. A rather sad smile. Like she wanted to mean it, wanted it to be true, but wasn’t convinced that it was. “Yeah, I guess so.”_

_When he had first met the commander, he admitted the hairs had stood up on the back of his neck. He’d heard stories. He was impressed by her abilities, by the way she held herself, her deep and firm voice. She was the kind of person who commanded respect. Who you felt right listening to. Maybe it was the brush with fame, or the confidence. Maybe he just had a thing for red-heads, or authority figures. He couldn’t quite place the feeling he had, why he felt so drawn to her._

_Of course it was hardly even a crush, calling it that made him feel embarrassed and childish. It was more like the way you see a celebrity when you’re a teenager, one who’s 10 years your senior and you have really no chance of running into. But there’s always that part of you that thinks that maybe you’ll run into each other, maybe they’ll notice you, maybe they won’t mind the age gap… Can’t be that weird, right? And you’ll be the center of all the hot gossip; who is that young thing on their arm? But deep down, no matter how much you fantasize about it, it’s simply not realistic._

_Of course, once you really got to know her, you realize how boring she could be. All she did was work, her nose was always in a datapad, she was always doing odd things like taking mineral samples or studying the flora on missions. She never flinched or seemed to react, really, to danger. People used to joke she was probably a robot. That she just shut down outside of work hours, and someone with the Alliance was just pulling the strings. When she spoke it was like a scripted answer, exactly what some politician trying to stay neutral would say. “What a mess,” you’d say, and she’d reply “I’ve seen worse,” and never elaborate. God, had Admiral Shepard built her out of scrap in her toolshed? It was infuriating, those first few months, trying to crack that cold metal exterior. But something made him not want to give up. Something told him she was more than some cold, rock-hard C.O. The way she laughed at the bar. The small, fleeting, smiles in the meeting room. It was like she was reaching out to him. She was pulling him into her orbit; there had to be something there._

_He began to think that maybe he was wrong as they walked in silence all the way off the docks. He realized he didn’t really know anything about her. Nor she him. He knew of her service history. Akuze. He knew of her mother. He knew that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. But he knew little else. Not where she was from. Just that she was one hell of a soldier. Not much else. And she probably didn’t know much of him either._

_“I used to watch meteor showers all the time when I was growing up. My parents had a balcony — perfect view of the English bay. Never thought I’d spend my life out there back then, did you?”_

_“No.”_

_“Really? You didn’t watch the stars as a kid, wonder what was out there?”_

_“I couldn’t see the stars as a kid. Too much light pollution.”_

_“Oh. That’s too bad.” She scratched the back of his head, trying to find something else to say. “I missed that view a lot when I got older. I spent most of my teenage years at an Alliance training camp.”_

_“Me too.”_

_“Really? Which one?”_

_“My mother ran one for a few years, outside of Detroit.”_

_“Oh, you’re from Detroit then? Red Wings fan?”_

_“No. Not really.”_

_They could hear music. Hear the sound of the festival growing near. She tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear, looked down, not really sure what to do with herself. It was dark. People gathered around fire pits. They were dancing. Drunk, probably. Children were running around, showing off prizes they’d won at carnival games. Steamy booths lined the area, serving hot drinks and food, trying to bring warmth back into the festival-goers hands. It was chilly. Kaiden wished he’d brought a sweater._

_“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said, looking around._

_“What, you never went to a festival or anything? Even as a kid?”_

_She shook her head._

_“Deprived,” he declared, studying her. “You have much to learn. Come on.” He gestured for her to follow, which she did. A crowd passed, almost making her lose sight of him. Instinctually, he reached out to grab her, to keep her close. Their hands met. He didn’t realize the awkwardness of the situation until they’d made their way to the other side of the crowd, when he finally let go._

_“Sorry,” he told her, awkwardly, wiping the sweat from his palm. What was he, a sixteen year old? “I…um…I don’t know where the rest of the crew is. I thought we’d catch up to them by now. We can always go back if you want.”_

_He looked back at her. Her lips were parted in an expression of childhood wonder. “No, it’s okay.” She smiled, really smiled, for the first time, revealing that little dimple on the left side of her face, and the crinkle that’s appeared in her eyes. “I’m just glad you cared enough to invite me. No one’s ever done that before.”_

_“No one?”_

_“Most people are a bit intimidated by me.”_

_“Can’t imagine why,” she smiled, not quite looking at him. “I’m freezing. Why don’t you find somewhere nice for us to sit, I’ll try to get us something warm.”_

_They went their separate ways, Kaiden turning to find her gone. He wandered the field for a moment, unable to find her near any of the fire pits, or near any of the other people. It took him a while to spot her, sitting cross-legged far from any one the music or the dancing, clothed in darkness beyond the festivals limits. It was her hair that made him finally spot her. Long and red, it was down and flowing in the wind behind her like a flag declaring war._

_“There you are,” he said, taking a seat in the grass beside her. The ground was cold, a little damp, the chill seeping through his clothes. He handed her the cup of mulled wine that had been keeping his left side warm. “Got us a good seat?”_

_She molded, but didn’t speak. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the sky. Kaiden smiled. It reminded him of back home, sipping beers on his parents back porch. He made a mental note to call his father later and tell him about this._

_“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Jane eventually said, breaking the silence._

_“We literally live in space, what do you mean?”_

_“This is different…I just…I guess I never really paid attention to stuff like this. Things that are beautiful. Thing that aren’t work-driven, you know? It’s nice to stop and smell the roses every once in a while. I can’t remember the last time I did.”_

_“You work too hard, you know?”_

_“I know. It keeps my mind off things,” she shrugged. “I went right back to work after Akuze. I felt like I was going to go crazy if I didn’t.”_

_The hairs on the back of Kaiden’s neck stood up. It was one of the many things she was famous for in the Alliance, but he’d never heard her speak of it. He remembered, once, when a younger recruit had foolishly brought it up, asked her about it. She’d snipped at him in front of the rest of the crew, refusing to talk about it. For the rest of that week, she was short-tempered, a bit scary. The room would quiet when she entered, and she’d yell at whatever poor soul was nearby to get back to work. They learned quickly not to bring it up again. Kaiden chose his next words carefully._

_“You didn’t take a break at all?”_

_“The Alliance made me take a six-week leave. They said I could have more if I wanted…I even considered leaving. But what else could I do? My whole life was built around the Alliance. But I was scared shitless of something like that happening again.”_

_“What brought you back?”_

_He thought he saw her smile, but it could have been an illusion of light. He wasn’t sure. “It’s stupid… but when I was in recovery my mom used to bring me these poetry books. To keep my mind busy or something.”_

_“Poetry? Never took you for the type.”_

_“You’re right, I’m not,” she agreed. “To be honest I never read any of them. But I tried to, once, I cracked it open to this one that really stuck with me._ ‘Though my soul may be set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.’ _I know It’s corny as hell but…it made me realize how much I loved my job. That I loved it more than I was afraid of what happened to me.” There was a pause, where Kaiden scrambled to figure out what to say. She filled it before he got a chance to. “It’s stupid, I know. Just seeing the sky like this makes me nostalgic, I guess.”_

_“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Kaiden chimed in quickly. “We all do what we have to do make it though the day. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back to the Alliance. Even if you are a killjoy.”_

_She shook her head, her teeth reflecting in the moonlight as she smiled. “Thanks for listening, Alenko.”_

_“Kaiden. We’re friends, remember?”_

_“Thanks…Kaiden.” She leaned her shoulder against him, and he felt her warmth through his jacket. Goosebumps ran up his arms. “You’re one hell of a friend.”_

_“Anytime...Jane.”_

It was fucking infuriating. Something rose within his throat, something hot and angry. He felt like punching a fucking wall, but he controlled himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Remember the last time you lost your temper? You killed someone. God, he thought he was past this feeling. Why was all of this coming up now? Because history was fucking repeating itself. Because once again there she was, right in front of him, and yet somehow a million miles away, somehow the fact that she stood in flesh and blood in front of him meant nothing again. Somehow it was Horizon all over again, and he'd royally fucked that up the first time, hadn't he? What the fuck was he supposed to do now? At least back then she had been sure of herself, even if he hadn't been. What was he supposed to think? 

He should have asked: what do you mean by that? What makes you feel like something is wrong? What's going on? 

But it was too much. He was tired and didn't feel strong enough now to know the answers now. He pressed his head against the cool glass between them, wishing he could reach for her warmth, to remind himself she was still here. "Jane?" 

"Kaiden?" 

"I'm here," he half told her, half reminded himself. "It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."


	10. Thank My Lucky Stars

“So here are the results.” 

Kaiden checks his watch. It is 8:45AM, and the hospital’s day is already in full swing. He is sitting in the head psychiatrists office. Dr. Kingsley. Files stack a foot high on her desk. Someone is crying in the hallway. She gestured for Kaiden to close the door to stifle the noise, and he does. She barely looks at him, clearing her throat and focusing on the papers in front of her. 

“I met with her for about an hour. What an interesting woman, you’re a lucky man.” She smiles, but her eyes don’t match her expression. They are sad behind her glasses. From stress, from lack of sleep. Not from bad news, he tells himself. Not for him. 

“I know.” 

“There’s good news and there’s bad news. The good news is that she has no long-term memory gaps, in fact, that woman’s mind is a steel trap. Married life is going to be real interesting for you, Major Alenko. If she can remember the name of every one of your crew members birthdays…yeah, you better keep close track of your anniversary.”

“Yeah, didn’t have to tell me that,” he replied, smiling. 

“The problem I’m seeing is with her short-term memories, her ability to form new memories from anything after the war. Even when being told the date, she won’t remember it an hour later. She forgets her nurses names. Of course we don’t have a baseline, but I take it this isn’t like her.” 

“No, not at all.” 

“It’s not that surprising, and it can mean a lot of things. We can’t make an definitive diagnosis right now. We’re learning more and more about what long-term exposure to reaper tech does to the mind and body every day.” 

“But you have your own opinions, right? She’s not the only patient you have.” 

She sighs. Smooths down her greying ponytail. “We have to take every case seriously. I’ve read every report Commander Shepard filed on indoctrination, cover to cover. It’s the not same. I’m not doubting what she saw…these cases are different. Their minds degrade until they attack like an animal. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m not sure anyone has before now.” 

“The reapers aren’t around to control anyone. They just left behind a bunch of broken-minded people.” 

“That’s what I believe, yes. But that also makes me hope that we can fix them now that’s it’s over. We just have to be careful. Some of these people are ticking time-bombs. I fear if someone like Shepard lost control…I don’t know how much damage she could do.” 

“So you think she is indoctrinated?” 

“Too soon to tell. We’ll monitor her, try different treatments. If she responds that’s a good sign, none of our other patients have responded. If she gets worse…I don’t know.” 

“But I can’t see her until we know.” 

Dr. Kingsley narrows her eyes, finally tuning her full attention to him. “She wanted to be quarantined.” 

“What?”

“She didn’t tell you? I told her she could have visitors for the time being so long as we keep her biotics offline, and she declined. I’m sorry, I-I thought she would have told you.” 

“I think I need to go talk to her.” 

“Major, wait—”

He hears her call out to him, hears his name down the hall by the time he’s already at the elevator. He watches her stand at the end as the doors close. What were the options? Either she really was slipping away from him, that she was no longer herself, and the miracle had turned into a nightmare. Or she had chosen this with a clear mind, and didn’t even tell him why.  
Either way, it stung. 

*****

_Sometimes she wakes up on Akuze._

_She’d served with that crew for over a year. She’d been through hell and back with them, or so she believed. You don’t spend that much time, on a tiny little piece-of-shit ship, responding to anything and everything, without meeting some of the best friends of your life._

_It had been her first assignment so far away from her mother. She was 21. Just barely old enough to drink in America, but anything goes in the off-world. As she stood in the mess hall with her duffel bag over her shoulder, she sighed, feeling awkward and alone. This crew had already been together for six more months. Childishly, she had to wonder where and if she would even fit in._

_“Hey, fresh meat.” It was a young woman, tall, or at least tall by Shepard’s standards. She had deep brown skin and a tight bun on top her head. Her uniform had a stain on it, which Shepard fought the urge to point out, as her mother would have done. She punched Jane in the arm hard enough to send a shock up her arm. She tried not to flinch. “Heard we were getting a fancy-pants biotic added to our crew, didn’t think she’d be such a short fry. Come on, sit with us. We’re gonna be breathing each other’s air for the next year or so, we might as well get cozy.”_

_And just like that, she was sitting with the only people in the world she could truly call friends. Cassie, as the tall woman called herself, and Omar, a shorter man with sand-tone skin and a crooked, yet infectious, smile. Later she would learn that these two were often called the twins. Not because they looked alike. Where one went, the other followed. We are one started a job, the other one finished it. Where one started a sentence and trailed off, the other ended it. They went to basic with each other. You can’t replace that kind of bond, as they would tell anyone whether they asked or not._

_“So, what’s your deal, biotic? Trying to pay for college?”_

_“I have a name. I’m Jane. Jane Shepard.”_

_“Ohhhh…right. Military brat—I get it now,” Cassie grinned._

_“What? Get what?”_

_“You’re Hannah Shepard’s kid. Wow,” Cassie rolled her eyes, “We all know of commanding officer mommy. That’s why you’re N7. Best training Admiral Shepard could buy, huh? What implant you got, L3? Newest model?”_

_“You saying I didn’t work for what I have?” Jane felt her face get hot, her heart pounding. Not even ten minutes on the ship, and someone was after her name. The name she loved more than anything else in her meager possession._

_“Hey, uh, Cass. Maybe back off a little,” Omar said sheepishly._

_Cassie glanced at him, her grin disappearing. “Hey, kid, I’m sorry. I’m just being an ass, okay? You’re gonna have to get used to that.”_

_“You really are,” Omar said, rolling his eyes “it’ll grow on you.”_

_“Let me guess, mommy dearest isn’t so dearest?” Cassie asked, helping herself to an untouched piece of toast on Omar’s plate. He once again rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop her._

_“No, it’s not like that.”_

_“I didn’t even know Admiral Shepard had a kid. My dad served with her. Real stick-in-the-mud. No offense,” Cassie interjected, “you grew up on ships then? That must have been cool. I grew up on a farming colony in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.”_

_“No, I grew up in Detroit.”_

_“Admiral Shepard is from Detroit?”_

_“No, I’m from Detroit. I’m adopted.”_

_“Cassie, you ever hear of boundaries?” Omar snapped._

_“Shit, sorry kid,” Cassie slapped her forehead, shaking her head. “Me and my big dumb mouth.”_

_“Don’t be? I love my mom. She’s my best friend.”_

_“That is so sweet,” Cassie gushed, “and so sad. You’re gonna see the world with us, Jane. Just you wait. We’re gonna pull that stick outta your ass in no time.”_

_That day in the mess was the first day of some of the best months of Jane’s life. They were some of the loudest, rowdiest people on shore leave. People would ask all the time how such good friends would meet, and Jane would say “that one punched my arm and called me a bitch,” and Cassie would protest and say “I did not!” And Omar would chime in and say “Is that not close enough to what happened?” And Cassie would laugh and reply “I mean yeah, but you don’t have to make me look bad,” and they would both remind her that she did that enough herself. They fought together as much as they laughed with each other. They spent their evenings playing cards and taking bets on who would get hurt next, and tease the one with the twisted ankle or the black eye. One evening while they were drunk and bored while the ship was docked for repairs, Cassie broke out a needle and ink she bought from a gift shop and started offering people tattoos._

_“Come on, Cass. What are you, ten?”_

_“Excuse me? Is this what you did when you were ten, Detroit? You had a weird-ass childhood.”_

_“Don’t do it. You’re gonna regret it,” Omar, still the voice of reason God knows how many drinks in._

_“You regret a lot of things, you know?” Cassie told him philosophically, turning again on Jane. “Okay, I know he’s a lost cause. Jane…come on. Just a little one.”_

_“My mom would kill me.”_

_“A year into this friendship and that stick is still wedged in your ass tight! Is Hannah here right now?”_

_“No.”_

_“So…I’m not hearing any real excuse then.”_

_“My mom told me if I ever got a tattoo, she’d send me back to basic.”_

_“And my mom told me when I joined the Alliance I’d be ‘saving the galaxy’ instead of zooming around picking up red sand dealers. Anyone else want to talk about shit that’s not gonna happen?”_

_“Don’t do it,” Omar chimed in, laying on his back, talking to the ceiling. “You’ve seen her handwriting. You really think her drawing skills are going to be much better?”_

_“Shut up, Omar!”_

_“Fine. I’ll do it.”_

_“Jane!”_

_“Yes!” Cassie punched the air in triumph, “and the ass-stick comes loose!”_

_“Don’t say ass-stick again or you’re not drawing shit on me.”_

_“Aye-aye, captain,” Cassie exclaimed with a drunken salute. “What and where will it be?”_

_“Ankle. I have to hide it,” Jane told her “and for the tattoo…dealers choice.”_

_“Ohh, bold,” Cassie grinned, “didn’t think you had it in you.”_

_“I don’t have any better ideas. At this point the creative juices are…like 80 percent vodka.”_

_“I’m gonna give you…a…star! And I’ll give myself a moon.”_

_“What? Because we’re in space? Real original, Cassie.”_

_“Omar! If you’re jealous there’s still an appointment slot for you, you know.”_

_“You’re both idiots,” Omar proclaimed, then went silent, as if he’d drifted off to sleep._

_“It’ll fade,” Cassie whispered, waving away Omar’s concerns._

_That was a lie. Jane still had that stupid, distorted thing up until Cerberus rebuilt her. Apparently it wasn’t one of the things that made her, “her.” She would disagree. Long after what happened, she would look in the mirror, studying every scar and mark on her body. Her skin a memorial. It told a story of bumps and bruises and people who should still be there and weren’t. Maybe the fact that it looked more like a starfish than a star would bother most people. But it was a landmark. Like when people would write “Cassie was here!” on the walls of bathroom stalls. Sometime she ran a hand over the place where, a decade later, the skin was still raised like Braille, expecting it to still be there, that she could still run her fingers across it and trace Cassie’s name. It was stupid but she mourned the loss of that stupid tattoo. Sometimes she felt like it was her only reminder that those warm and wonderful people had existed, once, that they had loved her._

_It was the morning after that when they were woken from their slumber much earlier than expected. Jane learned what a hangover was that day. She struggled to get out of bed and dressed, following Cassie to the briefing room, where they met up with Omar._

_“We’re being shipped out early,” their commanding officer, a man by the name of Lieutenant Peters told them. Jane blinked and tried hard to focus though the haze. Cassie was barely containing her smugness as she watched Jane struggle. “I’m taking 50 of you to investigate a colony that’s gone dark. The Alliance has reason to suspect foul play, and there’s no time to wait for the ship to be repaired. We’ll be transported by the S.S. Shenandoah, and figure out what’s going on from there.”_

_“Sir, what is the name of the colony?” Omar, somehow bright-eyed and sharp, asked._

_“Akuze.”_


	11. Gone

What the hell were you thinking?” 

She is sitting, cross-legged on her bed, like she did so many times when she was reading, curled over a book or a data pad. She looks up at him through a pair of reading glasses (she has reading glasses? How did he never know that?), her eyebrows knitted together. 

“Good morning to you too?” She closes her book and rests it on her lap, looking toward the glass. “What’s wrong?” 

“Why did I just have to find out from a doctor that I don’t even know that you don’t want visitors? That you’re choosing to isolate yourself… and you didn’t even tell me.” 

“Kaiden—“ 

“I just don’t understand. Okay, I get that you can make your own decisions… but you didn’t even say anything to me. This isn’t like you.” 

She stares at him. He knows the look, knows her face when she’s thinking deeply, conflicted. Such little tells, and she’s trained hard to get rid of them. He wondered if he was the only person who stood a chance against her in poker. “Maybe you know less about me than you thought.” 

She glances down at her lap, refusing to meet his eyes, taking her glasses off to fiddle with them in her hands. Something in him melts. What if these really are their last few weeks together before she’s lost to him again, this time forever? He’d never forgive himself if they spent what little time they may have fighting…but— 

“Don’t pull that card on me.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Where you’re pushing me away because you think it’s noble or whatever to deal with your problems yourself. I know you. We’re a team. Always will be. Just talk to me. What’s going on?” 

She raised her gaze, pushing a shorter strand of hair behind her ears, and for the first time in a long time he sees her eyes, really sees them. Dark, reflective like glass. “I didn’t want to worry you.” 

“Are you serious right now? Because you were absolutely not concerned about that when you…oh, I don’t know. Got in a mech and plunged yourself thousands of feet below the water and almost drowned. Or that time you decided to fight a reaper yourself. Need I go on?”  
She smiles, rolls her eyes. “Correction; I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”  
“If it’s about you? It’s not nothing.” 

“I just can’t help but shake the feeling like somethings wrong. I don’t know. I just had too many red flags. My memory, my weird nightmares…” 

“For how long?” 

“Since we left earth.” 

He presses a hand to the glass, wishing he could shake her by the shoulders. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me enough to confide in me? It stung, but that didn’t matter now. They could sort out their problems when they didn’t feel like they were living on borrowed time. 

“It’s not just that. Sometimes I wake up and I don’t know where I am. I think I’m back on the Normandy or…or somewhere else. I keep forgetting things I’ve just been told. I can’t remember if I saw you an hour ago, or two days ago.” 

“You’re still catching up to everyone else. You’re adjusting. That’s okay.” 

“Kaiden, I didn’t even remember I’d hurt you.” She glances up, her eyes large and apologetic. “I don’t want that to happen again. I can’t lose control like that.” 

“I know you didn’t mean it. If you did, I’d be in the ICU.” 

That brings a small smile to her face, the first in a long time. There are few things she’s proud of, he knows that. But her biotics? That’s her pride and joy. “I guess just don’t feel like myself. I’m scared shitless to be honest. I just feel like I’m waiting for something bad to happen.” 

“What do you think is going to happen?” 

She exhales through a gap in her lips, rubbing the back of her neck in the way her knows she only does when she’s nervous. No more secrets, he want to beg. Please. 

“Doesn’t this all just seem too perfect to you?” 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” 

“So I’m not the only one saying that?” 

“No, forget it. What do you mean?”

“I just wake up and… what? The war is over? Just like that?” 

“No. Not ‘just like that.’ You’ve been working your ass off for years. You just… missed the payoff.” 

“I just have this feeling in my gut that this can’t be over. The reapers can’t really be gone.”  
“They are. You haven’t seen it, Jane, but they really are. It’s over. You’re safe.” 

“You don’t trust my gut? You’ve seen what happens when people do that.” 

“I’ll take my chances.” She shakes her head, trying to brush off the worry. “You’re safe, Jane. I promise. Maybe you don’t trust yourself, but you trust me, right?” 

She pauses. Nods. “I trust you.” 

“I just want you to focus on getting better, okay? Do whatever they ask you to. So you can come home.” 

She makes an odd expression at that statement. Blinks up at him, like she’s searching for the words to say. There’s a long pause before she decided on what to say. “They’re asking me to journal or whatever,” she rolls her eyes, gesturing at him with the book from earlier “just write down…whatever I’m thinking about. They said it’s supposed to help with my memory but I actually think they’re just using it to speed up their psych eval system. But at this rate it’s going to take forever anyways because they won’t even let me have a real pen. Look,” she holds up a tiny thing, no longer than her pinky finger, and shakes it to show him how flimsy it is. Practically a wet noodle. ”I guess they’re waiting for me to go on a murderous rampage or something, but come on. Six months ago I was in charge of a warship and now I can’t even have a damn pen?”

“To be fair, if anyone can kill someone with a pen, it’s probably you.” 

“I thought you were supposed to be on my side,” she grins. 

“Don’t act like it would make your handwriting any better anyway. I love you but that shit is unreadable.” 

“My finger is on the mute button.” 

“No it’s not.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

“And you dare imply I don’t know you,” he smiled, resting the side of his head against the cool glass. “Credit for your thoughts? I’ve seen you writing like your report is due in ten minutes. Can I ask what it’s about?” 

________________

_So what do you remember about what happened?_

_Wasn’t that the delicious question? It’s okay, they said, when she told them it was all a blur. Anything you can give us will help. Even the smallest little thing. It’s normal to have gaps in your memory after a traumatic event. It’s your own brain protecting you. Pure adrenaline. Fight or flight._

_They were behind schedule. The drop ship touched down sometime in the evening, Akuze time. It was a dry and desert-like environment. Livable atmosphere but oxygen levels less than comfortable. One moon, just a sliver in the sky. Waning crescent. It would be pitch black out by sundown. Temperatures dropping to dangerous levels. Their suits could protect them for a few hours, but they had no choice but to camp out and carry out the majority of the investigation in the morning._

_Half the team set out to make camp, while the other went looking for signs of life. Shepard and Cassie were on the scouting team. The previous team had set up base camp about a half a kilometer away, downwind from their own. They’d started to set up more permanent structure. Metal. Glass. Preliminary. Emerging. But new. The metal of the buildings was shiny, un-corroded by desert winds. A toolbox outside had yet to be buried under the sand. Yet no signs of life. No sound. No movement. Just wisps of dust dancing in circles, the crunch of sand underfoot. The occasional hum of machinery, which still had yet to die out. Shepard could see in the windows of some structures. Data pads were left out, some unlocked, as if people had simply disappeared in the middle of finishing reports._

_“This is freaky,” Shepard admitted through the comms to Cassie. In her armor, Shepard felt like a little dog following her owner. Cassie was five years her senior, two heads taller than her, and outranked her, although Shepard was catching up._

_“Eh, I’ve seen worse,” Cassie reassured her, “at least there’s no bodies. I’m sure there’s an explanation. No signs of a fight or anything, so I doubtful it’s pirates or slavers, which is good.”_

_“You can tell they weren’t taken?”_

_“If they were, they didn’t duke it out here. Come my little rookie, let me show you what your fancy schools don’t teach you,” she gestured for Jane to look at one of the structures. Cassie tried the door. Locked. “Now I don’t know about you, but if I’m being kidnapped, I’m not going to lock the door behind me when I leave. And look — plenty of tech and stuff to salvage in the windows. Untouched. Besides, what petty pirate or slaver is going to go after Alliance? Too risky. Much easier targets elsewhere.”_

_“So what do you think happened?”_

_“Who knows? But I don’t assume dead until I find a body,” she shrugged, working on her Omni-tool to unlock the door. “Make sure you grab the data pads. There might be something on there about what happened.”_

_Shepard obeyed, but had a sinking feeling in her gut that it wouldn’t do much. She hardly thought that wherever these people went, if they didn’t have time to turn the lights off, they didn’t have time to write a lengthy diary entry about where they’d gone and why. Still, it was better than returning empty-handed. At least if felt like they were doing something.  
The last task, after searching for signs of life, was to switch off the distress beacon, which was located on the other side of the base camp. The security cameras still flickered images of her teammates wandering in and out of buildings, shaking their heads, bewildered. Turning off the beacon left Shepard feeling uneasy, like the final nail in an empty coffin._

_On their way back to camp, Cassie’s confidence fell. “Fuck, I hate to say it but you’re right. Kind of wish we’d find a body or something. There’s just…there’s really nothing.”_

_Shepard murmured in agreement as they shuffled back to camp. The sun was falling, and much like the deserts on earth, it was going to get dangerously cold overnight. They were under orders to stay inside the temperature-controlled tents until dawn, when the search could continue. Not that there was anything to find anyway._

_Omar had first watch with another older crew members Shepard didn’t know. For everyone else, it was time to get some rest. Back then it wasn’t so hard for Shepard to fall sleep. If Detroit had taught her nothing else, it had at least given her the ability to fall asleep anywhere. It amazed even Cassie how quickly and easily she could fall asleep. Sitting at a table, leaned against a wall. Shepard figures if she was warm and out of the rain, it already beat half the places she’d stayed._

_It had barely been a few hours since nodding off when Shepard opened her eyes and briefly felt her heart leap into her chest as someone loomed over her, before realizing the shape was Omar. He was shaking Cassie awake._

_“Come on, Cass. I gotta piss.”_

_Cassie swatted him away, rolling over in her sleep. Having bunked with her for a year, Shepard knew Cassie wasn’t ask happy to be woken up as she was. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I got you Omar.”_

_“Thanks, Jane. I’ll be quick.”_

_She followed him outside, slipping on her boots but not bothering to tie them. The moment the tent flaps opened, the wind chilled her down to the bone. It was like stepping inside of a refrigerator, and she immediately regretted her decision. “Hurry, I’m cold,” she told Omar, who grinned back at her as she ran off into the night to relive himself. Jane squatted on the ground, trying to conserve body heat, rubbing her hands together._

_Too much time has passed, she thought. She checked her watch. Five minutes. What the fuck Omar? She stood, swinging her arms, trying to bring some life back to her freezing limbs, pacing back and forth from the mouth of the tent. Her ears go numb, and she nearly cried out from surprise when the south guard rounds the corner, nearly running into her._

_“Shepard? What are you doing out here? You’re not on shift tonight are you?”_

_“I came to cover for Omar, he went to use the bathroom, but he hasn’t come back. I think somethings wrong.”_

_“Ah fuck,” he rolls his eyes. What was his name? Simmons. Simmons something. She can’t quite remember but he’s an older member of the crew. His hair is greying. He had a kid old enough to be in high school, she remembers him complaining about taking the family shuttle for a joyride. “Go get Private Harper, stay in pairs and look for him. I’ll get someone to alert the captain. Stay in radio contact. It’s too cold for him to be out there long.”_

_She nodded, heading back inside to put on her gear and wake Cassie. This time, she was alert, on awake, Jane could tell from the edge to her voice. Something didn’t feel right. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but Jane had a bad feeling about this place._

_“For fucks sake, Omar. You’re gonna get your ass chewed out if you did something stupid.” Cassie rolled her eyes, sniffed, wiped at her nose, running from the cold. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Cassie reassured Jane, calming the worries she hasn’t even expressed. Maybe she wasn’t trying to make Jane feel better. Maybe it was more for herself. “He can’t have gotten himself in too much trouble. He’s a hell of a lot smarter than me, that’s for sure.”_

_They hiked down a hill just beyond the bushes Omar had disappeared behind. The bottom grew steep, they slid down the last foot or so._

_“Omar,” Cassie called though gritted teeth. What was eerie in the daytime had become terrifying in the dark. The way the wind whistled through the buildings, not even the sound of crickets interrupting. There was no moonlight, just their flashlights, throwing shadows into large and terrifying forms. The ruined base camp was in sight, just up ahead._

_“Cassie, should we go back?”_

_“No, maybe he got stuck down here? And he looked for shelter from the cold? That makes sense,” she reassured herself, making her way back to the abandoned base._

_Cassie almost walked right by it. For a moment, Jane did too. In the light of her flashlight, it just looked like a rock. The shimmer of leather and metal eyelets is what caught Jane’s eye.  
“Cassie,” Jane called, and she turned her attention to where she was pointing her flashlight. “Is that a boot?” _

_She came close to examine it. It was shiny, new, more taken-care of than most Alliance soldiers would care to. Omar. “It looks like it, but why would Omar—“  
As she picked it up to examine it further, she noticed the weight. Heavier than normal. She turned it over, gave it a shake, and something fell. In the light of Jane’s flashlight, they nearly butted heads to look down what was sitting in the sand. _

_Blood. A human foot. Severed at the ankle. Still in a black uniform sock._

_Cassie covered her mouth, her eyes watering, holding back a scream, she was sure. “Fuck,” she breathed. “Fuck.”_

_Jane stepped backwards. Adrenaline. Fight or flight. Her face no longer felt cold, heat filled every inch of her skin. First things first. Call for help. “Base camp, come in base camp, do you copy?”_

_Nothing. Not even static._

_“Base camp, I said do you fucking copy?” Cassie shouted into her radio. Nothing. She kicked the sand, her hands in fists._

_“What’s going on? Should we go back?” Jane asked._

_“You go back. I’m looking for Omar. I’m not gonna let him bleed out somewhere alone, but we need help. Somethings not right.”_

_“Cassie, are you sure we should split up?”_

_“No. But I’m not leaving Omar, and apparently no one can answer their FUCKING radio.” Cassie turned, refusing to look at her._

_“I won’t leave you here alone. Whatever did this—"_

_“I outrank you, and I gave you an order. Go. Now.” Her voice wavered slightly. She turned, and in faint light of her flashlight, she could see a reflection of dampness over Cassie’s eyes. Jane nodded, taking off in a run back toward the hill. The wind carried Cassie’s voice, still calling Omar’s name, each one more desperate than the last._


	12. Blood on Sand

_Have you ever seen the color of blood on sand?_

_It was the first thing she noticed. At first, she was certain she’d gotten turned around somehow. Her heart drummed in her ears, and she leaned on her haunches for a moment, trying to catch her breath. The sun was rising, but no tent silhouetted the horizon. No one guarding the outside. No sounds of waking, of alarm, people shouting across the clearing, putting on gear, finishing hasty MRE’s._

_Just blood on sand._

_And it took her a moment to even recognize it. The way it rested on top, coagulated, but still red, dark, formed in almost a perfect circle, the way water sticks together on a slick surface.  
Gone. All gone. Like the blink of an eye. _

_No. Not gone. A hand. Sticking out of the sand. Fresh. Pink, almost. Alive? She digs, frantically, on her knees. No. Cold. Stiff. Still, she finds a face. An engineer. What was her name? She can’t recall. Her face is scratched and red, abraded from the sand. What could have killed her? How was she buried so quickly? On her feet. Look for more. Remains of the tent. More blood. A few limp bodied, curled in on themselves. Her Omni shows no signs of life. But she checks anyway. Turns their faces toward the sun. Everdeen. Jones. Richards. Gone. Gone. Gone._

_“Is anyone out there?” She calls into her radio. The pause as she waits for a response is deafening. Nothing. No one. “Please, anyone. Commander Preston? Omar? Anyone?”_

_The sound of her own shallow breathing is her answer._

_Cassie. The only one she had left._

_And she left her behind._

_She started running. “Cassie?” She spoke into her radio. Her heart skipped a beat. Nothing. “Cassie are you there?”_

_“I’m here.”_

_“Oh thanks god. Are you okay?”_

_“Don’t panic, but I’m injured. I’ll…be fine. Where are you? Are you alone?”_

_“The whole squad is dead, Cass. Everyone.” She took a deep breath. Tried to calm herself. “I’m coming back to you.”_

_“What? No, Shepard. You need to get to the distress beacon and call for help. Now.”_

_She paused, finally making it back to the incline from earlier. “What?”_

_“There’s something out there…something big. I don’t know what it is, but it it’s dangerous. You have to go get help.”_

_“Roger that. Rendezvous at the beacon control panel.”_

_A pause. Static. Shepard eases herself down the incline, waiting for a response. “Cass? You there?”_

_“I’m not coming. I can’t.”_

_“What the hell are you talking about?”_

_“I can’t walk. You have to leave me and go get help.”_

_“No, Cass, I’m close. I have medigel. I can come get you and we’ll go together.”_

_“It’s too dangerous. Go to the beacon and get help. Now. I don’t…I don’t know where that—that thing is.”_

_“I’m a biotic Cas, I can protect you. If you’re in danger I’m not leaving you by yourself.”  
“It cut right through my shield. You can’t help, you have to—“ _

_“I’m not losing anyone else. If you want me to be safe, you tell me where you are before I run into something dangerous.”_

_“Fuck, I—“ she exhales, pausing for a moment, considering her options. “Think you can go back to the place where you found Omar’s boot?”_

_“I’m nearly there already.”_

_“Don’t get too close, that’s where I saw it— go to the shelter directly to the left. There’s a small passage in the rocks. I’m hiding there. Please be careful.”_

_Shepard looked around, studied the landscape. She could feel it getting hotter by the minute. While their suits would protect them, it didn’t mean it was comfortable. She just hoped Cassie’s suit wasn’t damaged — that would complicate things. They’d need to find adequate shelter while they waited for pickup._

_“I think I see it. Do you see me?”_

_“Yeah…I think so.”_

_“What the hell did you see out there? Did you find Omar?”_

_“No but…there’s no way he’s alive.”_

_“Are you sure? I don’t like giving up on people until there’s a body.”_

_“You didn’t see it.”_

_“See WHAT, Cass?”_

_The ground rumbled, and Shepard lost her footing, stumbling forward and barely catching herself. Cassie was screaming in hear headpiece._

_“Run! Don’t look back, just run!”_

_Shepard obeyed, taking off in a dead sprint. The ground continued to shake behind her, but she was ready, straying as steady-footed as she could. Something moved in the corner of her eye, something big, moving quickly toward her. She rolled out of the way just in time, grappling for her rifle, when she heard the eerily familiar sound of her shields going down. Something very hot—or very cold, she couldn’t tell the different—pierced her skin. She screamed more from shock than pain, never having her shields brought down so quickly and unexpectedly.  
Her lungs on fire, she reached the alcove. Cassie was tucked safely inside, her back against the wall and her hand on her gun, ready to hold her own. She pulled herself up and shoots at something behind Shepard, which lets out a raspy-sounding roar._

_“Shepard, bring the ceiling down on it!”_

_“What?”_

_“Just do it!”_

_Mustering the last of her strength, Jane turned, putting every once of willpower she has into closing the gap behind her. Her skin felt feverish, warm to the touch, glowing with biotic power. She glanced at the creature for just a moment, a big mouth, a form taller than any living thing she’d ever set her eyes on, before a boulder came down and blocks her view. More rocks rain down, collapsing in the cave._

_Fuck. Fuck. Too much._

_A heavy stone fell square in the middle of Shepard’s shoulders, bringing her to her knees. She raised a hand, desperately trying to summon a biotic shield, but she was tired and weak, afraid. The rocks fall around her. She glances up just in time to see Cassie, hopefully far enough for safety, before a rock cracked her across the skull. Darkness. Silence. Blood on sand.  
Someone calling her name. ___

________ _

__“I’m here for Commander Jane Shepard, I know she’s here.”_ _

__Kaiden’s head jerks up at the sound of a familiar voice. He scans the lobby, searching for the source. In any other circumstance, she would stand out in a crowd easily on earth. But who knows how many aliens have been trapped here, millions of miles from the shores of their homes? Sometimes a pang of sadness hits him for those who don’t belong here. At least his childhood home is still under the same moon._ _

__Then spots her, at the front desk, demanding answers from a startled looking receptionist. “Liara?”_ _

__Her head shoots up. “Kaiden,” she breathes, stepping away from the counter. The receptionist breathes a sigh of relief. To his surprise, Liara hugs him, briefly. There is a softness to her gaze that he hasn’t seen for a long time, back when she seemed so young, despite being older than Shepard and him combined. He missed that Liara sometimes. The one who spoke so fondly of her mother, of the pottery and the bones she’d found on ancient planets, of Protheans long after most people had stopped listening. He wondered sometimes if the Liara that he had known those past few months was really happy._ _

__“What are you doing here?”_ _

__“You said Shepard was alive, I had to see for myself. Make sure she was okay.”_ _

__“I mean—how did you find us?”_ _

__“Kaiden.” She gave him a rather sharp look, more like the newer, older Liara. “You’re much too smart to ask such a dumb question. How is she? I’ve heard…concerning rumors.”_ _

__“There shouldn’t even be rumors that she’s alive yet. We’ve tried to keep that information private.”_ _

__“I know. I’ve tried my best to keep them under control, but I’m afraid privacy is a luxury you may be running out of. People want her to be alive. People want hope,” Liara told him. Kaiden gestured for her to follow him back toward the elevator, which she did. “Is it true? She’s in isolation?”_ _

__“Yes. They want to keep her under observation for a bit.”_ _

__“Because they believe she’s indoctrinated.”_ _

__“There’s evidence—“_ _

__“Kaiden, that’s nonsense and you know it,” Liara spurts before he can continue. “If she was indoctrinated, we would know. We would have seen—“_ _

__“—Liara,” he interrupts, “trust me. I’m not the one that needs convincing.”_ _

__“I know, I’m here to have a word with a Dr. Kingsley.”_ _

__“Wasn’t her choice. Jane chose to put herself in isolation.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“There was an…incident,” Kaiden told her, massaging the lines between his eyebrows. “Shepard was startled and she attacked me.”_ _

__“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Were you hurt?”_ _

__“No more than what’s a occupational hazard at this point,” he shrugged “but she won’t let herself risk it. She hasn’t been acting like herself. It’s like…it’s like she had no faith in herself anymore. I’ve never seen her doubt herself like this.”_ _

__“You don’t believe she’s been indoctrinated…do you?”_ _

__Kaiden sighed. Forced himself to roll the tension out of his shoulders without any luck. No, of course he didn’t want to believe it. What was the point of all of this? Of everything they’d been though? There were few things he could think of that were worse. A few weeks ago, all he wanted was a body. To be able to say goodbye, to know it was over, like after the first Normandy was destroyed. But now, watching from the sidelines as she lost her fucking mind? To know that physically she’d survived so much, only to be broken in a way that he couldn’t even see? That no doctor could fix? Fuck. He didn’t want to even consider which one was worse._ _

__“I have to believe she’s going to be okay,” be told her, taking a moment before stepping out of the elevator. “If I don’t I’m gonna lose it.”_ _

__“Kaiden,” Liara our a hand on his shoulder “you know you have to take care of yourself. You have a lot to recover from too.”_ _

__“I know. Thanks.”_ _

__“I have a gift to give Shepard. Then you and I will talk. It sounds like you’ve needed it for a long time.”  
They stepped out onto her ward and down the hall. Kaiden had to place a hand on Liara’s shoulder to stop her, she nearly walked right past her window. _ _

__“Hey, Jane,” Kaiden spoke into his Omni-tool. Both her wrist and her face lit up, and she glanced up. “Someone’s here to see you.”_ _

__“Hello, Shepard.”_ _

__“Liara?” Shepard’s eyes went wide. In fact, for a moment, it looked like she almost might cry. “You’re alive. You’re here.”_ _

__“Of course. I came as soon as I heard,” Liara assured her, pressing her hand against the glass. “How are you feeling?”_ _

__“Better. Are you okay? How have you been?”_ _

__“I’ve been keeping myself busy. I would love to tell you more—but I’ve brought you something. And I don’t want to push my luck putting it off,” Liara began to mess with her omni-tool, appearing to share something with Shepards. “Don’t ask how may favors I had to pull to ensure you had a secure channel. Consider it a combo get-well-soon and thanks-for-saving-life-as-we-know-it present.”_ _

__Shepard’s tool flickered to life, the image of a familiar silhouette appearing in orange miniature on her wrist. “Mom?”_ _

__“Oh my baby, it’s really you,” Hannah Shepard’s voice filled the room. “It’s really you. I can’t believe it.” Jane’s face scrunched into an expression of half-pain, half overwhelming joy. She raised a hand to her mouth. A tear ran down her cheek. He wanted to badly to reach out, to rub her shoulder, to comfort her._ _

__“We should give them some room,” Liara said, a sad smile on her lips as she pulled Kaiden away._ _

__“I’ve been trying to get them on one comm for months. How the hell did you manage that?”_ _

__“A salarian research tech expert stationed in the same star system as Hannah owed me a few favors. The details would bore you.”_ _

__“Hannah…You know the Admiral?”_ _

__Liara paused before the elevator. Thought for a moment. “I reached out after the Normandy was destroyed. It felt right. I was a motherless child, she a childless mother. We cut contact earlier than I’d have liked.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“Because I knew Cerberus was trying to rebuild her child. That there was a chance she could come back. I couldn’t look her in the eyes knowing what I know, no more than I could put her though the pain of giving her hope,” Liara shook her head. “But that’s hardly important now. This has surely taken a toll on you. How are you feeling?”_ _


	13. Danger at Last

“Oh my baby, Jane, how have you been? Are you okay? Are they taking care of you? Are you—”

“Mom,” Shepard smiled, for the first time in what felt like a very long time. It was funny. As soon as she heard Hannah’s voice, she melted, stepping out of the armor of a commander and into that pair of top-big boots Hannah had gotten her for her birthday to “grow into.” It was like being a teenager again. She couldn’t even imagine what someone like Joker would have paid to eavesdrop on the call after Cerberus rebuilt her. Stars, the earful she got the second her mother got over the joy of seeing her face and realized her daughter had been alive a whole week and didn’t call her. No one like mommy dearest to take you down a notch, savior of the galaxy or not. “I’m okay. Still a little shaken up, but I’m okay.” 

“I thought I lost you this time. I really did.” 

“Good to hear your unwavering faith in me. Come on, I’ve at least got a few years of fight left in me.” 

“Wonderful to hear, because you’ve taken a decade off my life at this point,” she shook her head, but was still smiling.

“Where are you? Are you safe?” 

“I’m out in the Hades Gamma, helping refugees get back on their feet. Helping them get their crops back on track, making sure they have a source of clean water, clearing out some remaining husks. Every time I think we’re going to make it back home, that I think our course will be set for earth, we get another distress call,” she sighed. 

“I know how that feels. We’ve all been there.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there with you.” 

“I know you’d be here if you could. Those people need your help, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Kaiden sends me updates. I know your injuries were severe. Are you in pain?” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I didn’t ask if you’ll be fine. I asked how you’re feeling now,” Hannah responded, shifting into the stricter, firmer tone that Jane knew from basic training. 

“I know. But that’s what matters,” Jane responded, “So you and Kaiden finally getting along, huh? You don’t have the sour look on your face you always do when I bring him up.” 

“He’s a…very nice boy.” 

“We’ve both talked over Horizon, mom. If I’ve moved on you should too. Besides, you really think the Alliance is going to drag me into some B.S. about fraternization after all this?” 

“You know how I worry. You could have thrown your whole career away for a boy that broke your heart anyway.” 

“But I didn’t. That’s what matters, isn’t it?” 

Hannah sighed, shook her head. “That man really does love you. I can’t argue with that.” She glanced at something on her omnitool, but dismissed it with a look of annoyance. “How’s earth?” 

“I haven’t seen much of the outside. Pretty bad from what I can tell.” 

“Better now that there’s no reapers on the doorstep. We have you to thank for that. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“You’ve told me—“ 

“Not enough,” she interrupted, “Never enough.” There was a sound from behind Hannah, she glanced in its direction, annoyed. 

“Mom, if you have to go, it’s okay.” 

Hannah ignored her, leaning off camera to talk to someone Shepard couldn’t see. Her voice was loud, stern, and even if it wasn’t directed toward it her send a shiver down Shepard’s spine. It was the tone that was usually followed by digging trenches or pushups until your arms gave out, the sound of someone royally fucking up. “Something better be on fire if you’re interrupting this call.” A deep voice answered, but it was too muffled for Shepard to hear. Hannah came back on camera, her face one of concern. “That sound isn’t coming from me. Are you sure that isn’t on your end, honey?” 

Shepard paused, sat up in bed, and listened. There was something distant, so muffled through doors it could have been a recording or something far away. 

Then she heard the gun shot. Too close for comfort. 

“Shit,” Shepard murmured, throwing the covers off her legs and throwing them over the side of the bed. Hannah’s voice was frantic, urgent. “Jane, what was that?” 

Three more. Bam. Bam. Bam. “Gunshot. Close.” 

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re in no condition to fight, get in cover and wait for help.” 

“It’ll take too long, the Alliance is spread thin as it is. These are civilians,” her feet met the cold floor, and she hesitated. First steps in ages. She could do this. Breathe. “I need to go and figure out what’s going on.” 

“Jane, don’t you dare—”

She pressed the end button, and her mother’s face vanished. She winced. She’d be hearing about that until the day she died. 

She pushed herself to her feet, but the moment she put weight on her legs they collapsed under her. She caught herself on the bed railing. Took a deep breath. A shockwave ran up her bones to her spine, nearly bringing her to her knees. Fuck. Nothing’s ever easy is it? 

It took every ounce of strength she had to pull herself up. It was even worse than waking up on that Cerberus lab where she’d felt like, well, death. But she made it then. She’d make it now.  
Leaning against the wall of support, Shepard made her way to the door. It was miraculously unlocked, and she made her way to the hallway. The smell of smoke instantly filled her lungs, and she was careful to watch out for broken glass.

“Kaiden?” She called into her Omni. A yell of pain in the distance. Not too close. No answer. “Kaiden, where are you? I need backup.” 

Static. She scowled and checked her surroundings. An empty hallway, eerily so. A light flickered. Movement, in the corner of her eye, in the cracked door of the room next door. She moved toward it, pressed her hand to the frame, and glanced around the room. 

“Anyone there?” She called, quietly, before something grabbed at her leg. She gasped before her eyes met a young woman in scrubs with big brown eyes, looking up at her in terror. 

“Commander Shepard?” She whispered. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes were covered in blood. Red. Fresh. Shepard nodded and kneeled down into cover. The girl seemed frightened, but unhurt. In one hand she held a pistol with the safety still on, although Shepard doubted she knew that. 

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m not,” her voice was small, shakey. Poor thing. She couldn’t have been older than twenty. “You scared me. I thought you were one of them.” 

“One of who? What happened?” 

“I don’t know! I was shadowing the doctor when all the patients in this ward just started attacking. The guards tried to stop them but it’s like they didn’t care they were shot—like they didn’t feel anything. They killed the guards and then—“her breath came shallow, and her hand squeezed the pistol. 

“It’s okay. I can piece together the rest,” Shepard told her, “you ran?” 

“Yeah. One of the guards told me to before they shot him. I took his gun and hid here. What if he’s still alive?” 

“That’s for me to worry about, not you. You did a good job…” 

“Pauline.” 

“Pauline. You did everything you could. Where did you see the patients last? Was there anyone alive when you left?” 

“A guard locked some Doctor’s in a closet on the east side of this floor, but the patients were trying to break in when I got away.” 

“Good catch, that’s going to help a lot. I’m going to go look for them, but we need to get you out first. Do you know if the other floors are safe?” 

She shook her head, and Shepard’s Omni came to life with a familiar yet frantic voice. “Shepard? Shepard, can you hear me?” 

Thank god. “I’m here, Kaiden,” she responded, “where are you? Any intel on what’s happening?” 

“Not much. A bunch of armed patients have some doctors hostage. I have your location and Liara and I are inbound.” 

“No—clear the other floors first. Make sure the workers are safe. I’ll be fine.” 

“Like hell you are. You’re a sitting duck.” 

“You can have this,” Pauline chimed in, offering Shepard her gun. “I don’t know how to use it anyway.” 

“Kaiden, are any of the floors secured? I have a survivor here and she said there’s more on the east wing.” 

“Cafeteria is secured, but the elevators are locked down. We can rendezvous at the north stairwell.” 

“Is that far from here?” She asked the nurse. 

“No. Just around the corner. It should be safe.” 

“Kaiden. I’m sending any survivors I find to you. I’m going to find the doctors locked on the east wing.” 

“You’re injured. Liara and I are on our way, don’t take any chances.” 

“This is a hospital. Every worker we lose has hundreds of lives riding on them.” 

“Kaiden’s right.” Liara’s voice. A gunshot in the distance. A distant yell. “We’re almost at the north stairwell. Meet us there.” 

“Pauline, you think you can get there on your own?” She nodded. “I’m not coming. I have a pistol. I’ll be fine.” 

“Shepard—"

“Not an argument, Kaiden. Pauline, go, someone will meet you there. I’m heading for the east wing.” She pulled herself up by the window frame, peeking her head out of the door before signaling Pauline to go. Tucking herself against the wall, she pressed forward. She checked the body of a guard, curled in the next corridor, for signs of life, but found nothing, not even her weapon. Great. As if them being unarmed wasn’t enough. 

It wasn’t long before she could hear it. That deep, bone-chilling sound. Raspy, unintelligible, so eerily close to human speech it almost made you pause. A sound she hoped she’d never had to hear again.

Husks. 

Steeling herself, Shepard peered around the corner. Just as Pauline said, there were a number of patients on the east ward, scraping their nails against a metal door. But they were different from the husks Shepard knew, impaled and rotted and formed into a mockery of human form. These were people, their features unmarred and clear, recognizable. Human. She could see the clothes they were wearing, the color of their hair, and knew they could be identified. She’d killed hundreds of husks in the past few years, but something about seeing a human face made it harder. Made it seem like they were salvageable. Like they could be restored one day. She couldn’t help but think of those poor people on Zhu’s Hope, how terrible it would have been to lose those good people for something they couldn’t control. One of them had what had problem once been that guards pistol dangling from their fingers. 

They hadn’t seen her yet. She took stock; she could see at least four, but there could be more nearby. At least one armed but she couldn’t see everyone’s hands to confirm there weren’t more. Drawing back to her hiding place, she took a moment to think about her next move when her Omni came to life with the sound of static. 

“Shepard we found Pauline and some of the other workers, we’re on our way to you now.”  
Frantically, Shepard wrestled with the volume, trying to silence it, but the damage had been done. She watched the patients turn, their gazes distant and dazed but so painfully human. 

***

“How have you been?” 

The hospital cafeteria was always fuller than it should be. Same faces every day, usually. He wasn’t sure if it was sad or not that people were beginning to recognize him as a regular. One of the workers waved at him when they entered, and without even looking at her name tag he knew her name was Lucy and Thursday’s were her day off; she checked on him when she was on her breaks and told him about how homeschooling her two children was going. The answer was poorly. She couldn’t help them with their math. Sometimes she’d bring an assignment in an ask him for help. He appreciated the distraction. “Company today for you, Kaiden?” She asked as they passed, nodding toward Liara. 

“Yes ma’am,” he told her with a smile, and she left through the employees only door. 

“You’ve been coming here a lot?” Liara asked. They sat at one of the long tables. His usually spot, by the window where he’d check his messages and read the news, was empty, waiting for him. Was it sad that he had a regular spot? 

“Every day. Whether I’m able to see her or not.” 

“Every day?” 

“What else am I going to do? It’s fine, really.” 

“You could explore London. Do something fun with your free time.” 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there isn’t much to look at but rubble. I’m okay, really. You don’t have to worry.” 

She glanced down at the table, picking at a stain with her nail. “I haven’t found anything on where your father might be. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I know you did your best. My mom had his memorial last week.” 

“I’m so sorry. Without you?” 

“I told her to. She and the rest of my family needed closure, and I’m needed here. I’m sure dad would understand…but don’t tell Jane. It’ll just make her feel bad.” 

“What about you? You don’t get closure?” 

Kaiden bit his lip. Thought, for a moment. “It was too late to save my dad. But I can still be here for Jane. I don’t have a choice. I have to focus on the people we still have left.” 

“Just don’t forget you’re a living person too. You won’t be helping anyone if you aren’t taking care of yourself.” 

“Thanks, but I promise I’ll be okay. We’ve survived worse.” 

“How are you feeling about her chances?” 

“It’s hard to believe anything bad can happen to her now, after everything. It’s just…hard. To see the person you put all your faith into lose faith in themselves.” 

“I’m sure she’ll be okay. Just give her time.” 

The doors burst open with a rush of activity, dozens of people rushing in with terror on their faces. Guards, doctors, nurses, and patients alike. One of them glanced his way, her eyes lighting up with recognition, and rushed to him. 

“Major Alenko, sir,” she was out of breath, kneeled over, afraid. “Please you have to help.”

“What’s going on?” 

“I-I don’t know. Some of the patients just started going crazy, some of them even got weapons and started killing people. We’re evacuating but there’s still dozens of people still inside. We contacted the Alliance for help but—“ 

“We’re on it. Secure the cafeteria, keep these people safe,” Kaiden told her. “Any idea where we should go first?” 

“Um. East wing. Third floor. We haven’t heard anything from them, I can only assume the worst.” 

“Get Shepard on the line,” Liara interjected “She’s in the west wing, she might be able to tell us what’s going on.” 

“You friend was in the west wing?” The guard asked, her eyebrows raised. “Was she one of the indoctrinated patients?” 

Kaiden glanced at Liara, finding the same worried expression painted on her face. “Yeah, why?” 

“Those are the people that started attacking. They’re like…like monsters. Like…” 

“Husks,” Liara interrupted mournfully. “Try to get ahold of her. We won’t know until we see for ourselves.” 

*****

_“Shepard, don’t try to move. Your scars haven’t healed yet.”_

_"It's okay baby, mom's right here."_

_“Hey, Shep, you okay?”_

_“Jane. It’s me. Kaiden.”_

They all blur together. Where is she waking up this time? Is she safe? Is she lost? Is there even anything worth waking up to? 

_Icy fingers around her throat. No—not fingers. But a grip. Brilliant fire. Weightlessness. Draw a breath. The last one. A pop behind her ear. Another one. Draw another breath. Nothing. Like drowning. Cold, so cold it’s like fire, running down her spine. Only moments to panic. The sound of her own choking echoing in her helmet. Black tunnel vision. Head about to explode. Pure adrenaline. Then nothing. The rushing in her ears goes silent. Like falling asleep, but much more sudden, much more quietly violent. But after that, nothing more._

She opened her eyes to footsteps and the smell of blood. Her hand felt hot and wet, a hot iron through her ribs. She lifted her pistol, not even sure she has the strength to pull the trigger. She sees the world in double, hears it muffled, like through water, though deep space. Her shoulders, so thin and bird-like now, leaned against the door, surely barricaded, filled to the brim with the London’s best hope. She can hear someone crying behind her, a young woman. Hold out until help arrives, she tells herself. Stay awake until help arrives. 

Then a streak of blue. Two of them. A jacket. A familiar face. They scan the room. No more danger, at least not here. 

“Oh my God, Jane,” Kaiden knelt by her, his hand brushing her shoulder. “Just hold on, okay?” He pulled her hand away from the wound, she felt the familiar warmth of medi-gel. Not the military-grade kind, the kind that made you twitchy, hopped-up, the kind that made you feel like you were unstoppable; but the hospital-grade kind, the kind that made all your problems melt at your feet. It was like an elephant rolling off her chest, she filled her lungs for the first time in what felt like ages. The pain blurred but did not disperse, just went somewhere distant and unimportant. 

She managed a smile. “Been a while since I’ve been shot—not armor or anything.” 

Kaiden’s expression softened with relief. Geez—had it really been that bad? Like they both hadn’t been shot to hell before. 

“Don’t think this means I’m not mad at you,” he told her, unconvincingly as his soft expression had not changed. “You could have been killed. Just when we got you back. What were you thinking?”

His words melted away as he took her into his arms. The gentleness was shocking — how long had it been since she’d been able to be so close to another person? To feel their warmth? Their touch? He didn’t press for an answer, and she rested her head against his chest, feeling the pound of his heart, the weight of his breath. It was almost alien now, almost unfamiliar, the safety, the warmth of his skin as she wrapped his arms around his neck. Nothing else mattered. Not the crunch of broken class underfoot, the squeak of blood pinned between boots and tile floors, not the sirens down below and the distant sound of gunfire, or the sounds of relief from the doctors as they were rescued from their makeshift shelter. 

Only the sensation of Kaiden rubbing circles into her back registered long after other voices came into the picture, poking and prodding and promising relief and sleep in the form of syringes. Minutes or hours could have passed. But through it all he never left, not once, not until it all melted together into a softer kind of darkness.


	14. Secrets We Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP to any semblance of a uploading schedule corona got me fucked up

“She’ll be okay,” the doctor told him, taking a moment to wash her hands in the nearby sink. 

Kaiden was sitting on the floor with his hands clasped between his knees, head bowed, waiting. The hallway, once a refuge of friendly faces and peace and quiet, was a bustle of activity. Patients being escorted back to rooms, people searching for their loved ones, janitors sweeping broken glass. The attending doctor was young but seemingly experienced judging from tired-looking, but calm, expression. She had a speck of blood on her maroon scrubs and an extra pair of gloves in her shirt pocket. 

Kaiden stood and rolled his shoulders, recovering from sitting for so long in such a uncomfortable position. “Thanks doctor. Any idea what happened here?” 

“Seems the Alliance was messing with some kind of Reaper structure nearby. Someone touched something they shouldn’t have, and it gave some kind of command to the indoctrinated patients. Every hospital on this side of the county had similar issues—but we’re better off than them. Lot less losses. Thanks to you and your crew.” 

“So…this means Shepard’s not indoctrinated?”

“We have no reason to believe that,” she shook her head with a small smile. “She’s in the recovery room if you want to see her, third bed down.” 

“Thanks. We have a lot to talk about.” 

“Now might not be the best time, she’s on a lot of pain meds. But I would suggest recording for posterity, or leverage, whatever floats your boat.” 

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, it’s been a pleasure Major,” she made a small, mocking gesture of a salute before taking off into the hallway, already grabbing another clip board on her way into another room. 

She was in the recovery room, only separated from the others by thin blue curtains. The patient next to her had a nasty cough, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She was resting, her eyes closed but the lids twitching with activity, one IV-clad hand resting over her steadily rising chest. Kaiden couldn’t help but smile. He was upset that she’d thrown herself into danger, refusing to listen to reason, but there was relief there too. It was over now, right? The uncertainty, the fighting. Maybe now there would be peace for her, for both of them. 

“Jane?” He pressed a hand lightly against her shoulder, which he noted as much too small, much too thin. Her eyes flickered open and her mouth twisted into an almost uncharacteristic grin. 

“Hey…there you are,” she gave a small, short laugh under her breath, pressing her hand over his. Her eyes struggled to focus on him, and her face was pink, the way it was when she drank too much. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I feel…great. _Really_ great.”  
“That would be the morphine talking. Glad to hear you’re okay.” 

“Can you believe it? I got shot. Twice. I haven’t gotten shot…” she rolled her eyes back in thought before shifting to counting on her fingers. He watched her lose count at least twice and start over with a shake of her head. “In a really long time. I mean I’ve been shot at…but not like…” she made two guns with her fingers, cocking them back and forth as she made a small _“pew pew,”_ noise under her breath before she interrupted herself with laughter. “Ow, fuck. Don’t make me laugh. It still kinda hurts,” she protested, shifting the blame to Kaiden. “You know what I mean.” 

“I’m not sure I do, Shepard.” 

“Shepard? You only call me that when we’re working, or you’re being really serious.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if there was more than a curtain between her and a dozen other people. “Are you…mad at me? Don’t lie.” 

“A little bit, maybe.” 

“You can’t be mad! I’ll tell you what, if you forgive me…I’ll tell you a secret. And then can’t be mad anymore.” 

“Depends his good the secret is.” 

“Okay…” she thought for a long time with her eyes closed, so long that Kaiden wondered if she’d drifted back to sleep. “I love you.” 

“Not a secret.”

“Okay…okay…but you can’t tell anyone, okay?” 

“That is, by definition, what a secret is.”

“Okay…okay…do you remember that time Garrus and I went on top of the presidium?”  
“The time he put-sniped you? How could he ever let any of us forget?” 

“Come closer,” she whispered, and Kaiden obeyed. “Closer,” she demanded, grabbing him by the collar and pulling his face centimeters from hers, so close he could almost feel her lips tickle his ear. “I let him win.” 

“Jane!” 

“We were all gonna die…I just wanted to make him happy. Besides, he could have actually beat me…I didn’t even try.” 

“Shepard, every news outlet on earth and the citadel alike have called you the best that Earth has to offer. You specialized in sniper training—“ 

“Shhhh,” she interrupted him, pushing him away and raising a finger to her lips. “Guess the world will never know.” 

“I love you but you’re ridiculous.” 

“Now you have to tell me a secret.” 

“Um…that was not part of the deal.” 

“Deal-shmeal,” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Spill it, Alenko.” 

“Fine, I’m sure you won’t remember this anyway. Remember when I got you that fish-feeder VI?” 

“Yeah…it was nice but I didn’t really need it.” 

“Yeah, you did. I was spending a fortune replacing your fish every time they died so you wouldn’t be upset.” 

“Kaiden!” 

“And don’t even get my started on the rotated schedule we had on who fed your hamster.” 

“I can’t believe you! Now I’m mad,” she turned her head away from him in indignity, crossing her arms and refusing to look at him. “I’ll never forgive you.” 

“What if…” he glanced at her bedside table, where the nurse had left her lunch, a sandwich and a pudding cup, which had gone uneaten. “What if I got you a vanilla one of these bad boys. I know you hate chocolate.” 

She opened one eye to glance at him dangling the pudding cup in from of her face, before finally turning to look at him. “Okay. I guess I’ll forgive you.”

“Be right back,” he told her, pressing a kiss on her forehead, making her laugh. 

“That tickles, you know I hate when you don’t shave.” She told him with a laugh. 

“Wait, you do?” 

She waved him away with a noncommittal hand gesture. By the time he glanced behind him, her eyes were closed again, and her expressed had softened again into one of resting.  
Liara was waiting in the hallway, flicking through something on a datapad. “Kaiden, there’s an urgent call for you in the comm room.” 

“Great. That’s probably Hannah,” he remarked, rubbing the space between his eyes that was now forming deep wrinkles. “Take this, will you?” 

“Thanks?” Liara replied, taking the pudding cup with a look of confusion. 

Kaiden readied himself for an earful, but to his surprise, it was not Hannah’s face that greeted him as the comm flickered to life, but another familiar face. 

“Admiral Hackett?” Kaiden murmured with confusion. “Sorry, sir, I just was expecting—“ 

“At ease, Major. I’m surprised to see you still at the hospital. Does that mean the rumors are true then? Shepard’s still alive?” 

Kaiden was taken aback for a moment. Guess news of her survival weren’t as wide-spread as he’d thought at this point. “Yes, sir, alive and kicking.” 

“That’s amazing news. Last anyone saw her was when she’d made a charge for the beam. No other reports of survivors.” 

“Nothing short of a miracle I’ve been told,” Kaiden couldn’t help but smile. It had been a while since he’d taken stock of what a blessing this ordeal had been, really. How lucky he really was.  
“Well, I hate to say it, but if she’s alive her work isn’t quite done yet.” 

“Sir?” 

“We still need her. The world is still in turmoil, trying to recover, tensions are still high. Shepard’s probably the most trusted face in the galaxy. If anyone can make sure this peace lasts…” 

“I understand.” 

“Not that you need to be told, but keep her safe. We can’t afford to lose her again, that’s an order. Just because the Reapers are gone doesn’t mean she’s not still in danger.” 

“You think someone would try to hurt her?” 

“According to my reports there was just a shooting at your hospital. Eight dead and sixteen wounded. Is that inaccurate?”

“That wasn’t—“ he stopped himself. What? Related to her? Didn’t matter. Everything was related to her, and if it wasn’t, she’d soon make sure it was. “Understood.” 

“Evidently London may not be the safest place to be. I can arrange a transfer if you know of a more secure location.” 

“Petersburg Memorial. My, um, mother works there, sir. Just outside of Vancouver. Very small, unlikely to have incidents, very private. I should run it by the Shepard’s before we make any decisions, but—“ 

“If you think it’ll be safer, I trust your judgement. Anything else, Major?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Stay safe, Major. Hackett out.” 

The comm died, leaving Kaiden to near-darkness. He turned to leave when it flickered to life again. Incoming call: Hannah Shepard. Accept. 

Her face shocked him. She’d evidently been crying, he could tell by the way her voice warbled, but the puffiness under her eyes. He dared not say anything for fear of losing his life. 

“Kaiden—“ 

“She’s okay,” he reassured her. “She’s hurt, and shaken up, but she’ll live.” 

“Jesus,” Hannah sighed. “I can’t keep doing this.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Hannah’s eyes turned fiery. Fuck. There was that temper. “Sorry for what?” 

Kaiden lowered his eyes, feeling like a child who’d been caught stealing from their mothers purse, being forced to admit what they’d done. “I promised I’d take care of her. I failed.”  
“No. You didn’t. I’m not angry with you, Kaiden. I’m just…tired of this. Of getting these kind of messages.” 

“I know.” 

“No, Kaiden, with all due respect, you don’t.” She didn’t look like herself. Her hair was unpinned, curls sticking up in every direction. The top button of her uniform was undone. She bit at the nail of her thumb. It was the first time he’d ever really paid attention to how old she really was. To the lines that marked her face. She scrunched her brow together the same way Jane does, and even when her face was relaxed it left indents between her eyes. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve buried my child? Akuze. The collectors. The Omega Relay. The War. Now. Over and over again I’ve had to come to terms with my own child’s death, and just when I start to pick up what I have left she’s back and in more danger than ever. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, I know so many other mothers who haven’t had the reunions I’ve had. But one of these days that luck is going to run out. I’m going to lose her one last time. And I’m just tired of waiting for that day to come.” She paused, rubbing at those dents between her eyes. “I don’t just understand why it always has to be her.” 

“Hannah, I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t blame you. I love my child. I love her bravery, and her compassion, and her selflessness. I love that she does right thing no matter what. She’s everything a mother could ask for.” She paused. “But I ask myself where she draws the line of being selfless and being self-destructive. I just want her to rest. She’s given this world everything. I want her to say enough is enough. And I’m afraid anything short of her own life isn’t enough for her.” 

“I know what you mean,” Kaiden chimed in, still feeling smaller than ever. “The way she fights…the way she throws herself into things…it’s terrifying.”

Hannah shook her head. Despite her sniffles, she managed a smile. “I swear the day she learned how to do a biotic charge is the day my hair started turning grey.” 

“Tell me about it. The first time I saw her do it, I thought she’d killed herself. Scared me half to death.” 

“Ugh…Her combat biotics instructor taught her that. Sometimes I think it’s the only thing she picked up from that class,” Hannah wiped her at face with her sleeve, clearing her throat and managing to regain her composure. “I’m old, Kaiden. I just want to go to bed at night knowing my child is happy. Loved. Safe, even from herself.”

“Admiral Hackett called just before you. He said he’d arrange transport to a different hospital.” 

“You have something in mind?” 

“Peterson Memorial. A little ways south of Vancouver. My mother works there, and when she’s discharged, she can come live with us. I think a change of scenery would be good for her. Somewhere she doesn’t associate with fighting for her life.” 

“That sounds like an excellent idea. You have my blessing,” Hannah told him with a warm look. “Thank you. I…I know I’ve given you grief before. But I know you love my daughter, and I trust you. Take care of her. Show her there’s more to life than what you can do for others. Give her a reason to stop throwing her life away.” 

“I’ll try my best, ma’am.” 

“Take care, Kaiden. I can’t wait to meet you. Watch out for my baby girl.”

“I will. Thank you, Hannah.” 

Her form faded into darkness, and Kaiden took a deep breath, weighted with the tall order he’d just been given. He just hoped he could follow though. He hoped the trust Hannah had given him was well-placed. 

*****  
_  
The final memories of Akuze are a voice. Cassie’s voice._

_She was leaned against a wall, holding a torn piece of her shirt against a wound on her head. The world dips and spins, warps like she’s moving while sitting still. Cassie was fussing over her as best she could, checking her pupils, a worried expression on her face._

_“You saw that?” Shepard slurred. The words come out slower than she wants, with difficulty. Something in the back of her mind tells her something isn’t right, a distant alarm bell in the back of her skull, but her thoughts are too jumbled to figure out what ur could be. She blinks, trying to focus on Cassie’s face, but failing. She reaching out to touch her arm, trying to stabilize herself. “I’ve never moved something with biotics that big before.”_

_“Good job. I knew you could.”_

_“What? You aren’t going to make fun of me?” Shepard smiled, tugging on Cassie’s arm. Cassie lowered her face, not meeting her eyes. “Come on, don’t be like that we’re going to make it out of this. We’re gonna go home, Cassie. I promise.”_

_Cassie managed a smile that did not match her eyes. “I know, that’s why it’s good you’ve got another act for when you audition for the circus, huh freakshow?”_

_“There’s my Cassie. Let’s get out of here.”_

_No matter how many people with clipboards and datapads asked, how many years passed, how many times her mother pressed, the memories stopped there. Nothing but blackness onward. She’d been given a lot of reasons why over the years; a serious TBI, her own psyche protecting her from trauma, severe dehydration. But at the end of the day, she remembered her words to Cassie. That she’d promised to take her home._

_And she’d failed._


	15. Joy

She had a kind, round face. 

She greeted them right off the shuttle. Shepard was still groggy, sleeping off the meds between dozing off on Kaiden’s shoulder. She was short, but Jane wasn’t much one to talk, she looked up to everyone in her wheelchair. She blinked the sunlight out of her eyes to find her smiling, her eyebrows formed in a perfect inverted V-shape, her arms outstretched. It gave Shepard pause. Did they…know each other?

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw it. Almond-shaped eyes, a much lighter brown than her own, medium brown skin. He had her eyes. Her dimples. 

“Can I?” She asked, smiling. 

“Um…sure?” Shepard said, unsure of what she’d agreed to. 

Kaiden’s mother approached her slowly, gently, looking at her face with an expression she couldn’t quite place, before wrapping her in a gentle, yet somehow firm, hug. Her light blue scrubs were soft and smelled of fabric softener. 

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Jane,” she whispered in her her ear, sounding genuine. “My goodness, you have such beautiful hair. What a pretty color. You’re so much more beautiful than Kaiden told me!” 

Shepard felt her ears go hot. Over the years, she felt like she was above such skin-deep things. Hardly anyone growing up would describe her as beautiful, with her scars and her crooked nose. It didn’t matter. In the Alliance, beauty didn’t matter. Not that it wasn’t nice to hear from someone you loved. 

“Mom, you’re making me look bad.” 

She straightened and smoothed down Shepard’s hair, still grinning, peering down at her face like she’d never seen such a thing before. “Sorry, I’m Joy Alenko. Kaiden’s mother. But I’m sure you knew that.” 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Alenko.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Joy. Just Joy is wonderful…or mom,” she said the last words very quickly, as if uncertain if that was okay. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with. Speaking of comfortable, let’s get you all settled in your room, although you won’t be here long.” 

“Really?” Shepard asked hopefully, following behind Joy as Kaiden pushed her. “In London they said I’d be in for weeks.” 

“Please. You’ll recovering at home, with me,” she said in an upbeat and almost triumphant tone. “I’m practically a self-contained hospital myself.” 

“Mom used to be a corps nurse.” 

“Corps nurse?” Shepard inquired. 

“She spent over a decade traveling the world, going wherever she was needed. War zones, disaster zones, refugee camps. Worst of the worst. Working with the bare-minimum to help the people who need it most.” 

“Wow. That must have been amazing,” Shepard remarked. Joy gave her a glance and blushed, clearly pleased with Shepard’s amazements. 

“Served in every county but four,” Kaiden said proudly, “you should see the awards on the mantle.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Not compared to you, Jane.” She added nervously. “I’ve never even been off-planet before. And you—you’re a war hero. The first human spectre. Intergalactic peace-maker. You know how many baby _‘Jane_ ’s and _‘Shepard_ ’s have been born here in the past month?” 

“Mrs. Alenko—"

“Please, Joy.” 

“Joy…I would be a goner if it weren’t for people like you.” She couldn’t help but think of those people at the hospital, the ones she had shot and killed without even thinking if something could still be in there, that their humanity could still be salvaged. Of course she’d killed before, lost count a long time ago. But those were civilians. Innocents she’d sworn to protect. And as much as she told herself it was either her or them, it hardly felt like a fair trade. “My career was built on breaking people. Fixing them is a lot harder.” 

******

_  
What happened next was told to Shepard a million times over the next few weeks. More often than not, she wouldn’t even remember being told, let alone the actual event. They all started out the same way:_

_Shepard carries Cassie on her back, injured and concussed, all the way to the distress beacon. They call for help and somehow made it through to sunset. But when the rescue team got there, Cassie wasn’t breathing._

_She was dead on arrival, and Shepard was a shivering, bloodied mess who could barely string a few words together._

_At the hospital, she was forced to write these words out over and over again in an effort to get her to remember something, anything that could help kill that damned thing, anything that could help retrieve the bodies of the rest of her crew members, but it didn’t work. Nothing did. She woke every morning shaking, afraid, unsure of where she was, asking for Cassie. Cassie is gone, the note on her bedside table read. Her mother spent every moment she could there with her, holding her tight, trying to stop the shakes. Then Shepard would go to the bathroom, splash water in her face, and gasp at her appearance. A large gash though the left side of her face, interrupting her eyebrow. Two steadily healing black eyes. Bruises around her shoulders and back. A cut on her lip that never seemed to want to heal._

_Her release from the hospital was hardly a celebration. It was more nerve wracking than anything. Hannah was able to stay on base for a few days, but it would be a week until someone could come relieve her for a longer leave of absence. She apologized over and over. Offered to pitch a fit, to leave anyway, but Shepard refused. What was she going to do anyway? Stand around and watch her daughters bruises heal?_

_Of course there were funerals to attend soon after that, and the only one that wasn’t a memorial service was Cassie’s. She remembered standing in the blaring heat of the colony Cassie had grown up on, a little farming community just a few million miles away. She was hot in her military greys and unsteady, nauseous from her concussion. The worst part was Cassie’s family coming up to thank her, to shake her hand, to tell her how much it meant to have their only daughter home. Jane couldn’t form the words. Their only child, lost. She started at them, through them really, a wave of shame pouring though her. Cassie should have been alive. Cassie should have—_

_“Words are hard for her night now. She took a blow to the head. I’m sure you understand,” Hannah stepped in, forever the diplomat. “Words can not express how deeply sorry we are for your loss. I can’t imagine.”_

_“We’re luckier than most,” Cassie’s mother said. They had the same eyes. Similar noses too. “At least we had something to bury. Jane’s your only child?”_

_“My one and only,” Hannah said proudly, taking her daughters hand and squeezing it tightly._

_“You hold her tight for us.”_

_“Of course.”_

_After that, Jane was ordered to take a six week leave of absence. But where was she to go? She had no real home of her own, and the thought of being smothered by her mother for a month and a half made her feel claustrophobic. She rented a small place on the Citadel. In the business district, not the docks, far from where another solider might recognize her. Ran though the motions. Ate ration bars and takeout when she remembered to eat. She wasn’t supposed to do any exercise until she was healed, but she went on long runs until she felt dizzy and her eyes started to burn, until she was leaning over the presidium ready to vomit up her meager breakfast, and a passing gentleman might tap her on the shoulder and say “miss? Are you alright?” And she would blink and tell him yes, of course, just taking a breather, and he would perhaps notice the emblem on her jacket or her dog tags and thank her for her service, and she would run back home feeling worse than when she left._

_The thought of leaving the Alliance occurred to her. She had no real friends left in the world, she realized. They were all buried under the sands of Akuze, left behind in pieces. They had been, perhaps, the most loyal friends she’d ever had. Of course she’d had friends who looked out for each other in the Reds, but that was more about survival and less about love. Of course they looked out for each other, there was no other way to make it though the day. But when push came to shove, you looked out for number one. Yourself._

_Cassie and Omar, they were a different breed. Those were the kinds of people you fight and died for. Those were your ride or die._

_Yes, they were gone now. Every face she had worked with for nearly a year. Every smile across the table at the mess. Every cry for help when they were pinned down, or yell of victory when they all made it out in once piece. But the feeling was still there, the warmth of their community remained. She owned the Alliance her life. It was the closest thing to family she had. And where else was she to go? This was all she knew now, and with her biotics, she was a freak. What was she going to do, go to an office every day like the gentleman who stopped her on the presidium? Talk about who was getting a divorce from whom around a water cooler, unconcerned with what was happening in that big, wide, galaxy?_

_By the end of the week, the cabin fever was unbearable. She’d bitten her nails down to bloodied stumps, picked at her skin until it was red and bumpy. Her hair was patted down with grease, left in matts. Hannah would be arriving for her requested absence that afternoon, and Jane knew she would fuss. She took a pair of clippers to her head and cut until there was nothing but auburn fuzz. One less part of her that planet had touched._

_Jane went to the docks an hour early, pacing, trying to tune out the news, which repeated her story over and over again, touting her as a hero. She caught a glance of herself in the reflection of a window, her eyes bludgeoned with the sleepless nights she spent waiting for the shoe to drop, for something to take her the moment she finally let her guard down. Was that what people were supposed to see in her? A hero? Metals, bravery, valor, all that crap? She could hardly take care of herself let alone anyone else._

_She barely even saw her mother’s face before she’d thrown her duffle bag to the ground and ran toward her, throwing her arms around her child and pressing Jane’s face into the soft material of her hoodie._

_“My baby,” she cooed, as if she too had expected a creature of the night to come back to snatch its forgotten victim. “My baby. I’m sorry I took so long.”_

_“It’s okay,” Jane told her. “I needed the extra rest.”_

_Hannah released her, studying her child’s face, damn well knowing it was not one of rest and peace. “Baby, your hair. Stars, you’re so thin, what have you been up to? Are you doing okay? Of course you’re not, my poor baby—"_

_“I’m fine, mom,” Jane told her in a flat tone, wresting out of her grip like she was a teenager again. She had to remind herself that those years were not so far behind her. She was just 23 years old. In retrospect, still practically a child, although at the time she would have thrown a fit of someone had called her that._

_She had to admit, she slept better with Hannah there. It was like when she was a teenager, when they’d left Earth together for the first time after Hannah’s wife died. She’d slept curled up next to her mom, head head buried into her neck. Maybe a normal teenager would have protested, but Jane had missed out on these moments as a child. She was hungry to catch up._

_“I can stay up if that would help you sleep better,” Hannah would offer, seeing Jane toss and turn “I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.”_

_“That’s okay, you don’t need to stay up for me,” Jane would tell her, but Hannah did it anyway, at least until Jane finally drifted away. She didn’t want to admit it, but it helped, knowing someone else had her back again._

_“So what are we thinking?” Hannah finally asked on the second week, after days of avoiding the subject as they walked thought the gardens in the presidium. “You think you can go back to the Alliance?”_

_“You wouldn’t be disappointed if I left?”_

_“I’d be more disappointed if you only stayed for my sake.”_

_“What else would I even do?”_

_“We would find you something. Make sure you were happy,” her mother frowned, looking at her daughters worried expression. “We would figure it out. We always do.”_

_An older couple walked past, noticing the mother and daughters jackets. They pointed at them, whispering, and Jane pulled her hood over her head. She recalled the day she’d been called ‘Red’ by that boy in the training yard, the sense of shame and anxiety she’d felt, and they diverted toward a less crowded path._

_“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Jane,” her mother told her._

_“I don’t blame myself, that’s the problem. I have nothing to blame. I did everything I was supposed to. I followed everything my training told me, I listened to my superiors. I did everything right. And Cassie died anyway. How the hell am I supposed to make sure something like that never happens again?”_

_“Sometimes that’s the hardest part of this job, love. We can’t control everything. Sometimes we do everything right, and it all goes sideways anyway.” She fiddled with her wedding band. Shepard had never asked the details of how Ann had died, but she had a feeling she was talking about her._

_“How do you deal with it?”_

_“You do the right thing anyway. If nothing else, it helps you sleep at night. Knowing you acted with integrity. That you did everything you could.”_

_“That’s the thing that keeps up up at night,” Shepard shrugged. “I don’t think I want to leave,” Jane told her after a few minutes of silence. “I just…I feel like I can’t be done. I like being a solider, and the Alliance…it’s like the family I never had. I can’t explain it. It just…feels right to me. Like I was born to do this.”_

_Hannah smiled softly at her, placing at hand on her shoulder. “After everything you’ve been though, if you still feel that way…I think this is where you belong. As much as it pains me to see you go into more danger, I won’t clip your wings. I’m behind you every step of the way no matter what.”_

_“I’m just…I’m scared. How am I supposed to stop thinking about what happened to me? How am I supposed to get back on a ship like nothing ever happened?”_

_“You don’t. Things change you. You have to move forward with that change.”  
“How? Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I’m just waiting for something bad to happen. How did you keep going after Anne died?” _

_“I refused to stop moving. I had you. I had the Alliance. I’d just been promoted to Captain. I had a funeral to plan and a whole lot of new duties both as an solider and a mother. I made sure I had too much in front of me, so I’d never have time to look back. Made sure when I hit my pillow every night I was too tired to think about what was bothering me.”_

_“I wish I could do that. I have a month of leave left, remember?”_

_“Oh I’m sure I can find you something to do on the Kilimanjaro until you get a new assignment.”  
“Won’t that get you in trouble?” _

_“With who? Who’s going to question anything I do?” Hannah raised an eyebrow at her. “You know how tight of a ship I run.”_

_“Oh…I know. Trust me.”_

_“We’ll find you something to do that’ll keep your mind busy, and go against orders. Can’t have you back in the field yet. Maybe I’ll have you file some reports for me. That’ll be a nice break.”_

_“Break for who, you or me?”_

_“Mostly me. I hated seeing my best little secretary go when you enrolled.”_

_“Great. My favorite form of family bonding time.”_

_“Anything’s better than wallowing in self-pity.”_

_Jane scoffed. “I do not **wallow** in self-pity.” _

_“Whatever you say, darling.” Hannah linked arms with her daughter, pulling her close. For the first time in what felt like years, Jane cracked a smile. They moved forward and out of the gardens together. They did not look back._

******

She was woken again to the thunder of alarms. 

On her feet. Back against the wall. Eyes adjusting to the darkness. She is alone, weak. Her heart hammers against her chest. She shakes. Leans against the wall. Her legs hardly support her. No weapons. No ammo. Biotics? She can see the faint glow against her skin. Yes. Weak. But something. She hears movement on the other side of the door, she tenses. Tries to find cover, tries not to back herself into a corner. Go out fighting, make them work for it, make them—  
Light fills the room in a doorway-shaped beam. A figure. Tall. Broad-shoulders. With a fluid motion he quits the noise. Silence. A red display reads 4:13. A clock? 

Dark eyes shine in the light. A face. Familiar. A voice. More familiar. 

“Hey, sorry about that. Wonder who set that?” 

She wanted to more toward him, wanted to thank him, but her body was frozen. Cold. She felt her fingers go numb, felt the ice take over her arms, her legs, freezing them in place. Where is she? When is she? Her face stings with the cold, sore against the non-existent wind. Cold, like Cassie. Like Omar. Like Anderson. Like—

“Jane? Are you okay?” 

No, no, no. Where? When? These walls are unfamiliar. No place to hide. Defenseless. She crumpled to the floor, clutched her hand to her chest, feels her heart thump against her chest like it’s trying to break a rib. No air. Choking. Cold. Like deep space. Like the Normandy. Pressing the escape pod button. The blast knocking her back. Nothing. Weightless. Hot, then very cold. Reaching for her oxygen tank, reaching for something, someone, anyone, anything, but nothing—

“Jane, hey hey hey—it’s okay. It’s Kaiden. It’s okay. You hear me?” He knelt next to her, looked into her eyes — panicked, beady, haunted. He reached out, tentatively, touching her arm. Steady. Warm. Alive. Alive? “Jesus, you’re shaking like a leaf. It’s okay. You’re safe, you’re in a hospital in Vancouver. You’re with my mom and I.” 

“No—no—“ she shook her head, trying to push him away. Not safe. Can’t be. No one is safe anymore. “The reapers—“ 

His eyes widened with a look of sympathy. Of course he doesn’t believe her, no one ever does. Not about the Thresher Mawl on Akuze. Not the Council. Not until she got had proof. Not until—

“The war is over,” he reassured her “You’re okay. We’re okay.” 

He kept his distance, not daring to come closer. Is he afraid? Of her? 

Then she remembered. The thunder of alarms. Waking. A man standing over her, pure adrenaline. And by the time she realizes it’s Kaiden…he’s halfway across the room. Clutching his ribs in pain. 

The room darkens as the glow of her biotics fades. Slowly, he takes her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she choked. Something hot raised in her throat, something she couldn't swallow down. “I’m sorry. I won’t lose control again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”


	16. Reasons to Go, Reasons to Stay

_The assignments came easy after that. Maybe her reputation proceeded her. Maybe her mother had done some meddling. She didn’t care to know._

_Her resume allotted her some room for negotiation. She requested only temporary postings, ones where there wasn’t much time to make friends. It was better that way. She made herself tough and prickly, gave textbooks answers to everything, refused to show a human side to her until everyone would grow to dislike her. It was a welcome attitude for many of her captains; she didn’t mind being the bad guy. They listened to her, at least. She kept them on their toes. It wasn’t her job to be liked. It was her job to keep them alive. And she did._

_She often stared at that tiny black star on her ankle, wanted to cut it from her flesh, erase it, anything to get it off of her. So fucking stupid. Who did she think she was? Some college girl, having the time of her life with her friends. People were fighting and dying every day, and there she was, acting like same damn trust-fund kid without a problem in the world. Maybe some people were lucky enough to act that way, but not her, she knew her lot in life. Stupid. If they had just kept things professional, none of this would have happened. Cassie wouldn’t have fallen apart when Omar died, wouldn’t have needed to be torn from where they’d found his boot. She wouldn’t have gotten angry and reckless, wouldn’t have gotten herself hurt, wouldn’t have gotten killed. All the rest of them too. Stupid. Careless. They were all too comfortable. All felt too safe. She shouldn’t have fallen apart like that after Akuze, but there was nothing more to do but keep moving forward. Onto the next posting, where she’d never be missed, and the next and and then next one. Until nearly four years had passed._

_Shore leave was always difficult for her. While everyone else was out having fun, she was isolated on the ship. She knew her place. She knew she wasn’t wanted. But occasionally the stars would align and her mother would be on the Citadel, and it was good to see her. Not that they talked much in those days. It was as if Jane had forgotten how to connect to another person, she gave her mother only short, cordial answers, the way she was taught to give an interview in officer training. Sometimes she would give such a cold, distant answer that her mother would call her out. She would look at her, hands on her hips, an expression of worry on her face._

_“What happened to us, Jane?” She’d ask, “We used to be so close. You used to tell me everything. I miss you.”_

_And Jane would brush off the question, at least of a little while, putting off the conversation until she could escape back into her shelter of strangers. Her mother would call of course, over and over, and Shepard would push how long she could go without responding. She couldn’t explain it, but she just didn’t have it in her to talk to someone who had seen her so broken. She was different now. Stronger._

_But not that day. She was helping her mother at the embassy offices, filing some intel away for the human ambassador. Her mother had since become a captain, which carried responsibilities she sometimes didn’t understand, and was sure her mother couldn’t tell her about anyway. Jane was slouched behind the desk, searching for something, when the doors opened, and her mother called out in such an excited tone to startled her._

_“Anderson! Dear God, you’ve gotten old. Come in! Come in! You have to meet my daughter. Jane, come here!”_

_She stood up too fast, nicking her head on the bottom of the desk, which both of them obviously noticed. She blushed and chose to pretend like nothing happened.  
“Jane—this is Captain Anderson. He’s a friend. A very old friend.” _

_“We’re the same age, Hannah,” Anderson interrupted, and she elbowed him with a grin on her face. Jane was left confused by the dynamic. She’d never seen her mother be so casual with someone before, especially someone so high-ranking._

_“Anderson, this is my daughter, Jane.”_

_“It’s a pleasure, Captain Anderson,” she saluted and stood at attention, which made the captain smile for some reason._

_“No need to be so formal. Your mother and I have been friends since long before you were even born. Best solider I’ve ever worked with, if a bit of a pain in the ass.”_

_“Flatterer,” she rolled her eyes, smiled in a way Jane had never seen her smile when it involved her work. She realized her mother didn’t have many friends. Co-workers, yes. But she’d never really seen her mother so happy to see someone before. “What brings you to the Citadel? I thought you were off in your fancy new assignment.”_

_“I was. I have business here.”_

_“Of course, not too busy to come meet an old friend for drinks though I presume? I’m almost finished up here if you want to catch up.”_

_“Actually, I have business with Commander Shepard. We spoke about it a few weeks ago if you recall.”_

_Her mother’s brow scrunched together, her eyes narrowed. “You can be serious, Anderson.”_

_“Commander…do you mean me, or my mother, sir?” Jane inquired timidly. “I’m just a Lieutenant, and my mother is actually a Captain now.”_

_“My apologies. I’m getting a little head of myself.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet pouch, which he tossed toward her. Luckily, she caught it, not wanting to look like a clumsy idiot a second time. Inside was a small metal bar. Meant, she knew, to go between the two bars already on her chest. Her heart fluttered. “Congratulations, Commander.”_

_Her mother closed the gap between them, pulling her daughter close to squeeze her shoulder. “Oh I’m so proud of you, honey!” She exclaimed, making Jane blush._

_“That’s not the real reason I’m here,” Anderson interrupted, his face very serious. She glanced at her mother, who nodded at her to listen carefully. “I’m putting together a crew. I’ve studied your profile extensively, and I’m looking for very…special individuals to join my forces. I think you’d be the perfect fit.”_

_Once again, she turned to her mother. Studied the knowing smile on her face. Shook her head. “No offense, Captain. But I’m not one for nepotism. I want to earn what I have, not given positions because of my mother.”_

_“Jane,” her mother had an edge to her voice “it’s not like that. We discussed—we didn’t discuss you. I knew the position was open, I didn’t know you were a candidate.”_

_“I wanted you before I even knew your family name, Shepard. You have a damn near impossibly impressive record. You’re an officer school and N7 graduate. One of the most talented biotics your captains have ever seen. And you haven’t lost a single crew member under your command in three years.”_

_She tried to hide a smile, the warmth of pride seeping over her. “I know better than most, sir, that no one gets left behind.”_

_“Of course. You were a hero on Akuze. Not only did you show bravery, but your adaptability as well. Most would have left the Alliance after what you experienced. Not only did you stay and prove your fierce loyalty, you’ve requested no less than twelve times to return to Akuze to retrieve the bodies of your fallen comrades.”_

_Her instantly went red. Fuck, here we go again._

_“Jane?” Her mother interrupted, “you didn’t tell me you’re still trying to go back to the awful place. We’ve talked about this.”_

_“I owe it to them—“_

_“You owe it to your mother to not die before her,” she interrupted, her eyes flashing. It had been years since she’d seen this anger from her mother, and they engaged in a tense stare-down, only broken by Anderson clearing his voice._

_“Captain Shepard, could we have the room please?”_

_“Whatever you have to say to my daughter, you can say in front of me,” Hannah spat._

_“Hannah.”_

_There was a softness to his tone that made her break his gaze. Her hands were curled into fists, and she stomped out of the room. “Make it quick,” she snapped. Shepard raised her eyebrows. She’d never seen her mother back down to anyone. She left without so much as looking back, Anderson turned his attention back on her._

_“Don’t be too hard her. In her own stubborn way, it’s her way of showing she cares. And she loves you, very much. In fact, I’ve heard so much about you, it hardly feels like I’m just meeting you now.”_

_“Christ alive,” Shepard whispered under her breath, her face turning hot. What had her mother told him? Told, god forbid, other superior officers._

_“I was shocked by your loyalty to your crew. Most people would never want to go near somewhere that hurt them so deeply. That spirit of bravery is rare. I see so much potential in you.”_

_“Potential to do what, exactly?”_

_He smiled, finally. “Anything. I need people like you, Shepard. On my crew. My ship. The Normandy.”_

_The Normandy? Of course she’d heard or it. Who hadn’t? “I—I have to think about it. Talk with my mother. Get more details.”_

_“Of course. I’ll have a full rundown sent your way. But I actually have a proposal, if you’re up to it.”_

_“What would that be?”_

_“A trial run. See how you fit in.”_

_“And where would we go exactly?”_

_“Akuze.”_

_Her jaw dropped. So many years of begging for closure, and that was it? Dangled right in front of her?_

_“Any significant threat has been eliminated, to the point where there’s been discussion of a memorial. I’m not sure what you think you’ll find there…but I understand how places like that can haunt you. And I want you at your best. It’s your call. And if you don’t think the Normandy is a good fit after that, then I’ll personally recommend you to a new assignment of your choosing.”_

_“I—I can’t—“ she paused “I think I need a little time.”_

_“Of course, don’t apologize. I have other business to attend to, but I hope to hear from you soon. Send Hannah my regards when she’s done fuming.”_

_“Will do. Thank you.”_

_“Of course…Commander Shepard.” She caught his smile on his way out the door. The way he carried himself, like some noble, old, beast._

_Shepard took a moment to bask in the warmth of her own achievements for a moment, staring at her new bar before pinning it in place on her chest. It didn’t last. She sighed, bracing herself. Time to find her mom._

_Before she even had to time message her, she found her sulking outside, leaned against the wall. She was playing with her wedding ring, which she’d taken to keeping around her dog tags, a sign Shepard knew to mean she was particularly bothered. Her mother didn’t even notice her until she got close, and when she looked up it was not an expression of anger on her face, but one of pain._

_“Mom? What’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing, darling, I’m sorry. I should be happy for you. This is great news, really. You can’t pass this opportunity up.”_

_“A minute ago you seemed like you didn’t want me to take it. What’s going on? Do you not trust Anderson or something?”_

_“Stars, no. I’ve trusted him my life before, with Ann’s life. And there’s no one I’d rather trust with yours,” she insisted. She bit her lip. “Can I show you something?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She messed with her Omni-tool for a moment, flipping though files, until finally stopping on one final image. She paused for a moment, her eyes wide and glassy, before she turned to show Jane._

_“Do you remember this?” on her wrist was the image of a very young woman. She was small, skinny, but not, scrawny, with freckles spattered across her face and shoulders, and red hair tucked into a long braid. Her face was broken into a wide smile, revealing a gap in her teeth, and she was clutching the straps of her duffle bag, which had been a birthday gift. She had a wild look in her eyes, wondering what the future could hold for her, so certain that now she had a future._

_Jane couldn’t help but smile. It was the day she’d graduated from basic. Out of the range of the camera was a cake, strawberry, her favorite, with the words “congratulations” scribbled on the top in the cooks sloppy handwriting. The crew of the Kilimanjaro were celebrating in the mess, delighted to welcome her into their ranks. It was like having a band of rowdy uncles and aunts who had watched her grow up, despite not even knowing her for two years. It was like having a family. One that was overflowing with pride. For her._

_“Of course. I saw so happy.”_

_“I’ve been looking back on this picture a lot. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I lost the love of my life to this work. Lost so many good friends. And here I was, congratulating my daughter on going down the same dangerous path. And then Akuze happened. How on Earth could I let that happen?”_

_“Mom…”_

_“Don’t try to comfort me. It’s my fault you got hurt. That you won’t even talk to me anymore.” Her voice warbled, and it broke Jane’s heart. There was no ache in the world quite like seeing a parent cry. “I was supposed to protect you. And I failed.”_

_“You couldn’t have stopped me if you tried,” Shepard insisted “I wanted this more than anything. I wanted to make you proud.”_

_This didn’t seem to comfort Hannah, in fact, it only seemed to upset her more. Her face fell and she refused to look at her daughter. “Jane…answer me honestly. Are you happy?”  
The question shook her to her core. To be honest, it wasn’t something she’d even considered as of late. But she was alive, and she was out there, giving everything, she could so her crew could stay alive, could have the chance to be happy. Perhaps that was close enough. _

_“What’s this really about, mom? You didn’t get upset until Captain Anderson mentioned Akuze.”_

_She sighed, wiped her face with her sleeve. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help but think of that poor girl.”_

_The hair on Jane’s neck stood up straight. “Cassie?” The words fell out of her mouth in a heap. When was the last time she’d said her name? It must have been years. But something about those two syllables made her stomach drop, made her feel small and helpless, like that scared, shaking, 23-year-old again._

_“I write to her parents…about four times a year. I can’t help but think of how easily that could have been me. How easily I could have lost you. How easily I could lose you again.”  
Cassie’s name brought something to the surface, something that burned hot in her throat and made her heart race, made her stomach hurt. “You write to them? After all these years? You never told me.” _

_“I didn’t want you to feel guilty. More than you already did. I’m sorry, it’s not too late if you wanted to talk to them.”_

_“I don’t…I don’t think I have the strength…” she stuttered, feeling a surge of anger at herself. What was wrong with her? It had been years, she’d moved on. “Thank you. For doing that. I couldn’t have.”_

_“That’s okay. That’s what moms are for,” Hannah finally smiled. “You’ll understand one day. Feelings get so messy when you have kids. Moms don’t like it when you mess with their babies.”_

_“You’re talking about Anderson,” she asked, and Hannah nodded quietly. “I thought you trusted him?”_

_“I do…I just…he’s involved in some pretty big things. Something amazing, if it all pans out. I just…it’s complicated.”_

_“Can’t you just tell me?”_

_“I wish I could. It’s…higher than my pay grade. And yours.”_

_“Do you think he’s a good captain, at least?”_

_“The best. Everyone who served with him went on to great things, his word carries a lot of weight. You two are very similar. I think you’d work well enough together.”_

_“I’m confused. Do you think I should take his offer, or not?”_

_“I won’t tell you what to do, Jane. I can’t.” She closed her eyes and thought for a moment and thought, long and hard. “Do you remember what you said to me? When you came back from Akuze? Something about feeling like you were born to be a solider.”_

_Jane nodded._

_“You still feel that way?”_

_Jane nodded again. How could she not? She’d spend months, years, since childhood, really, searching for that reason. Why had she been rescued from the streets, when so many weren’t so lucky? Why had she survived Akuze in place of Cassie, or Omar? There had to be a reason why she kept coming back for more, why she felt this way._

_“I don’t know if this is your purpose, you have to ask yourself that. But you will do a lot of good with Anderson, I can promise you that. You have to decide for yourself if that’s good enough for you.”_

****

He watched her splash her face in the mirror, trying to wash off the exhaustion under her eyes. Joy was constantly in and out of the room, occasionally peeking in to ask Jane questions, or check her vitals again. Jane was being patient, but he could tell she was getting restless. He couldn’t blame her. He missed home. It felt like ages since he’d slept in a real bed, ate real food, woke to anything but artificial sunrise and alarms of every kind. 

“Where’s all of Jane’s things?” Joy asked when she was out of earshot, looking around for a bag. She didn’t let Kaiden answer. “That won’t do, no, that won’t do at all,” she murmured, and strutted away, typing something furiously on her datapad. 

They didn’t get out of there until well into the afternoon. Jane looked a bit better now, Kaiden thought, standing in the sunlight. She had a bit more color to her, and while she seemed a bit tired and leaned on him for support, she was on her feet at the very least. She looked relieved to be leaving the hospital behind her. She didn’t even wait until they were on board before she was attempting to free herself from her hospital bracelet. 

“Oh, you’ll love it at my brother-in-law’s orchard,” Joy was buzzing during the short twenty-minute drive. “It’s so peaceful. We used to take Kaiden there every summer to play with his cousins.” 

“Really,” she grinned, elbowing Kaiden slightly. “Any photo albums for me to go though?”  
“Oh plenty, and you’ll get to meet the whole family too.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Oh, the whole family has been staying there. It was safer than staying in the cities,” she replied cheerfully, “there’s plenty of room, don’t worry. They used to have rental cabins around the property, so you’ll have plenty of privacy. But Archer is having a family dinner tonight to celebrate Kaiden coming home,” she beamed “everyone is going to be so surprised to see you!” 

“I—I don’t know—” Jane swallowed. What’s the big deal? It was just a few people, Kaiden’s family God’s sake, and if they were anything like Joy she would be greeted with a parade. But even that didn’t calm the pit in her stomach. What was she supposed to say? She didn’t feel like herself. She hardly recognized the body under her clothes, once strong and able, she was thin, scared, vulnerable. Her face was gaunt and tried, her hair singed and uneven. For years she’d walked into every room knowing she could hold her own, that she was strong, that no matter what she’d be able to protect herself and the people she loved. Perhaps she wasn’t always in the safest of situations, hell, most situations she found herself in were downright suicidal to be in. But there was safety in her own abilities, in her own strength. And now that was gone. 

Kaiden seemed to sense her unrest. He put his hand over hers and squeezed. “We’ll have to see, mom. It’s been a really long few weeks. We’re both exhausted.” 

“Oh. Okay. I’m sure your uncle will understand,” Joy replied, obviously a little let down despite trying to sound cheerful. “Jane, dear, you really should take a look out the window. It’s gorgeous from up here.” 

Jane obeyed, her mouth dropping slightly in surprise. Green, so much green, more green than she thought she’d ever seen in her life. The trees were evenly spaced but dense, their leaves bending in the breeze, some even giving off the slight pink tint of blossoms, and the grass was bright and seemed to stretch on for miles. Of course, there had been dense jungles and forests on other planets. But never when she was on earth. She didn’t even think places like this still existed. 

They must have been close, they descended as they came closer to the cabins Joy had mentioned. There were a few forms milling outside, seemingly helping around the orchard. They waved as they passed overhead. Two small forms, children presumably, ran after them excitedly, but were quickly lost as they passed overhead. Joy stood and was mumbling directions to the driver at the front, and they descended into a small clearing next to a smaller house. As the shuttle doors opened, Jane was greeted with the freshest air she thought she’d ever smelled. Something, well, earthy. Untouched by smog or smoke. She filled her lungs with it, drinking it in for a moment before someone offered her a hand outside.

Jane took it, and looked up to see an older man dressed in jeans and a flannel. He had a kind smile that reminded her of Kaiden’s, and while his complexion was much darker, they seemed to share some other features she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something about the space between the eyes maybe. His hair was thick and greying, and the corners of his eyes were wrinkled from years of laughter. 

He hardly seemed to see her as he offered her his strength as she stepped into the grass. Instead, his focus was on Kaiden. He pulled his nephew close, immediately putting him in a headlock and messing with his hair. Jane couldn’t help to grin as Kaiden feigned struggle. Of course he could throw that man halfway to Egypt if he wanted to, but he allowed him to keep him pinned for a moment or so before wrestling his way out of his grip.  
“There you are, Kaiden, you had your cousins worried sick. But I knew you were too tough to let those bastards crush you.” 

“Careful, I just got him back, don’t break him,” Joy chimed, reaching out for the mans hand as she turned to thank the shuttle driver. “Jane, this is Archer, Kaiden’s uncle. Archie, this is Commander Jane Shepard.” 

Archer did a double take, studying Jane’s features. “Holy shit, you’re the real deal, huh?” He said, almost in bewilderment before his face broke into a grin. “It’s an honor to meet you, commander. I—I don’t really know what else to say. Kinda thought little Kaiden here was messing with me when he said you’d be staying with us.” 

“Thank you for that, I really appreciate it. I’m not sure where else I would have gone if it weren’t for you. It’s beautiful out here.” 

“Oh it’s no problem, really. I’m just letting you borrow a house. You gave us back a whole-ass planet, ma’am,” he replied, but he seemed pleased by her response. “I should let you two settle in, but we’re gonna have a welcome home dinner around six at the main house. I hope you’ll come, Kaiden doesn’t have much of a choice. His aunts will hunt him down if he doesn’t.” Kaiden shot Jane a noncommittal look. 

“We’ll see you tonight,” Joy beamed, turning to follow Archer back up the dirt road that winded towards the nearby hill. “Do be late!” 

Jane took a deep breath and faced their new home. It was small compared to other places she’d seen on earth, but huge compared to any ship or barrack she’d lived in. Stairs led up to a small wooden balcony. Kaiden offered her his arm, which she took gratefully. It was hard enough to admit it to herself, but even the short journey here had left her tired and aching.  
The smell of pine hit her as soon as they opened the door. They had their own nicely sized kitchen and living room, which looked warm and had a small brick fireplace at the heart. Kaiden set his own bags down by the door. 

“So what are you thinking? You didn’t seem too thrilled about meeting the family. You doing okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah,” she told him, closing the front door behind her. “I’m just…tired, I guess. I’ll think about it. I really just want to shower. Get the hospital smell off me, you know?” 

“Yeah, of course. Bathroom is back down the hall. My mom said she ordered some things for you, think she said she left them in the bedroom.” 

Jane paced down the hall to find a rather sizable parcel on the bed, with her name written on it in neat, swirly letters and a heart next to it. Inside were sets of neatly folded clothing, all in her size, along with anything else she could have asked for. Toothbrush, hair ties, even shampoo ‘formulated for curly hair.’ Far fancier than anything she’d ever bought for herself. “You mom really seems to like me,” Jane probed, grabbing a bundle at random and stepping into the bathroom.

“Yeah, what’s not to like?” Kaiden called back. 

“I don’t know. I just…I don’t know what I was expecting.” Hot water came quickly and easily from the spout, but she paused to take off her borrowed scrubs. Her shirt came off with a bit of difficultly. There was a tightness in her shoulders, it was difficult for her to reach her arms above her head. As she stepped into the shower, she found her left knee tight, almost resistant, to her bending it all the way back. She nearly caught it on the edge of the tub, tripping for a moment and knocking over a few bottles that lined the edge, but managed to balance herself. She could hear Kaiden’s footsteps come quickly, then his voice right behind the door. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she responded shortly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hot shower. Still, old habits die hard. Even trying to savor the warmth, she couldn’t have been in there for more than a few minutes more than what would have been allowed at basic. “I’m just surprised is all,” Jane continued after she stepped out, unsure if Kaiden was still listening. She dried off quickly and was met with her own reflection once more, her face red from the heat. The stain of her injuries trailed down her left arm like a blanket, pink and raw, and farther down were the two pale, healing wounds where she’d been shot. She dressed quickly and moved on to her hair. “She seems…I don’t know…really enthusiastic about me being here.” 

“Are you forgetting that you’re Commander Shepard? One of the most famous faces in the galaxy? Of course she’s excited to meet you,” Kaiden responded, obviously still close enough to hear. 

“What about the rest of your family? You think they’ll like me?” She stared at herself for a moment, trying to figure out how to handle the mess on top of her head. Any attempts to braid it ended in fumbling, like her fingers had somehow forgotten how to do the basic motion she’d been practicing for decades. 

“Dad’s family is Alliance to the core. Trust me. They’ll be ecstatic,” Kaiden assured her. After a few moments of silence, he chimed in again “You sure you’re doing okay?” 

“Yeah…actually. Do you have any clippers?” 

“What, like hair clippers? Uh…probably in the medicine cabinet. Why?” 

“Can you…come get them for me?” 

“Uh yeah. What’s going on?” Steam filled the hallway as he entered, and she was nervously running her fingers though her hair. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. “I thought you were trying to grow you hair out?” 

“I was—I just,” she shrugged. It was odd seeing her in civilian clothes. His mother had gotten her a Vancouver Canucks shirt, which made him smile for a moment. He’d give her grief for it later. “I just can’t braid it. It’s like my hands don’t want to cooperate.” 

“And you jumped straight to shaving your head?” 

“Not the first time I’ve done it.” 

“You could have just asked for help,” he sighed, brushing a wet strand from her face. Beneath it was the slight pink of her burn, barely creeping its way to her neck. She reached wordlessly and put the hair back to cover it. “It looks nice down, you know. I’ve always thought so.”  
Maybe he was right. It felt odd to her, the way it brushed across her shoulders. In fact, all of this felt odd. Wearing sneakers not boots, the smell of pine trees and non-recycled air, the eerie quite of her life not relying on a giant engine under her feet. She could hardly remember a time when she didn’t have an Alliance symbol proudly displayed somewhere on her body, commanding respect.

Kaiden wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to his chest. At least that was familiar. The way he buried his face in her neck, the way he just seemed to breathe with her, as if they were one organism. For a moment she reveled in that feeling, in that familiarity, but something was eating away at her. 

“What if your family doesn’t like me?” 

Kaiden let out a snort and looked up at their reflection in the mirror. “That’s really what you’re worried about?” 

No, but it was hard to put it into words. Sure, her fame might get her a few points. But it also set up such high expectations. But what if they were disappointed by what they saw? She was hardly the person they’d seen the last few years in the news, so strong and determined, capable. She couldn’t barely even take care of herself now, let alone anyone else. She’d spent years feeling so confident in herself because she could trust in her own abilities, her own strength. She knew she could lead her team though hell and back, and if all else failed, she had her own brute strength to rely on. It had been years since she felt so…small. Powerless.  
“I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them. I’m not…the same person now.” 

“What do you mean?” 

His eyebrows furred together. That was it, isn’t it? What if the person who’d won this war was gone? Worse yet, what if she’d never really existed? Perhaps she had only really lived on ships and in war rooms, under heavy fire and suicidal odds. She hardly knew who she was outside of those things, outside of that red-striped helmet. Who was to say anyone would like the Shepard she saw in the mirror now? 

“We can stay if you don’t want to go. It’s okay,” he assured her “I know it’s a lot to take in.”  
“Your family’s been waiting a long time to see you again.” 

“And I’ve been waiting to have you all to myself for even longer,” he whispered into the back of her hair, sending warmth down her spin. She couldn’t help but smile. “We have all the time in the world.” 

She blinked at her reflection, the way Kaiden’s arms curled around her. He was still here, she told herself. After everything they’d been though, after weeks of never giving up on finding her, staying alone halfway across the world from his home, knowing full well she was probably dead. He never left. He stayed for her. 

That had to count for something.


	17. The One Where Shepard Meets a Baby

_The docks were bustling with activity, and Hannah was by her side, clearly trying to catch her daughters eye. Jane stared determinedly forward. She’d made her choice. She wouldn’t risk hearing anything else Hannah had to say._

_They stopped a ways from her dock to say goodbye. Hannah wrapped her daughter in her arms. Perhaps this was the root of why her mother made her feel so small; despite the years that had passed, the muscle she’d worked hard to put on her shoulders, she still barely hade it up to Hannah’s collarbone. She wondered if she’d even grown since the day they’d first met.  
“Annie would have been so proud,” Hannah said, her eyes crinkled into a smile. Jane gave her a inquisitive look. Why bring her up now? “You know we met when we were both working with Anderson.” _

_Jane’s jaw dropped, but quickly formed into a grin. The scandal! “I’m sorry…you dated your co-worker?” Jane spat indignantly. “You did not break protocol.”_

_“Keep your voice down,” Hannah said, but she laughed. “No. We spent six years making googley eyes at each other from across the war room. Then one day on shore leave I asked her if we didn’t work together, hypothetically, if she’d be interested in me. She said yes, and I submitted for reassignment the next day.”_

_Jane rolled her eyes. “God, even when you’re trying to be cool you’re so uptight.” She paused. Checked her watch. They had a few minutes. “Why are you telling me this?”_

_“I don’t know…I guess…I just want you to enjoy this part of your life. It’s okay to have fun sometimes, you know.”_

_“Are you telling me to fraternize with my co-workers?”_

_“Heavens, no. In fact, if you do, I will kick your ass,” she said, a tone of seriousness cutting through her playful tone. “Just…try to make friends. I know it’s hard.”_

_“Great. Captain Shepard is telling me I’m too uptight. Guess I know it’s time to loosen up if I’m hearing it from you.”_

_“You’re right. Don’t waste your time being a stick in the mud like me.” She smiled again and reached out to hug her child one last time. “Call me. You can’t avoid it now, I’ll tell on you to Anderson.”_

_“I will. I promise.” Anderson waved at her in acknowledgment as Jane boarded, but her mother only had eyes for her. She wondered if the two had reconciled yet._

_The crew seemed apprehensive enough of her. Perhaps her reputation precedes her, perhaps they were just walking on eggshells for fear of the unknown. Those first few days were such a blur, stopping at Akuze being the only thing that had any significance, if she could even call it that. The place was hardly recognizable. Sand and wind had covered everything. When they first landed, she questioned whether they were even in the right place. They made short work of tracking down her teams dog tags, stumbling along the sand until they’d found all 28 members of the missing crew. She boxed them up herself, more than ready to return them to their next of kin. In every one, she wrote a note. It was hard at first, she didn’t know every person well. But she started with Omar’s. Told his brothers, who he talked about often, about how much he’d looked after her. Told his mom how much he’d meant to her — how he’d kept her grounded all those years. She thanked them, and sealed the box. They came easier after that. She found something to say about everyone, even if they’d never spoken. She could at least say how she remember their smile, how they were always the first person up in the morning, how they were always reading something at breakfast. She felt lighter when they were done. Like she’d shed a heavy winter coat she never realized she was wearing.  
It didn’t un-do what had happened. It didn’t make her happy. But it was a start. _

_Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. It was a smooth transition. She was cordial with her crew, but not cold. She held high expectations, but not impossible. She became respected, tolerated, even, but not loved. Never loved. Which was fine by her. Being able to sit in the same room with her crew at dinner without a hush following where she went, discussing new omnitool models in the elevator. Perhaps that was the closest she’d ever come._

_And then there was the day Anderson pulled her aside. A new crew member. “A biotic,” he mentioned, “could give you a run for your money.”_

_“I doubt it, sir,” Shepard responded with a small smile. She waited by the airlock, as was customary, as Anderson retrieved her new crew mate. She heard their footsteps approaching, measured, almost in synch. Already they seemed to be joking, happy to see each other, like they were friends. Perhaps someone older?_

_Their eyes locked as soon as he entered the shit. Brown and warm, like there was a fire behind them, and he smiled at her before he saluted. His hand lingered for a moment as he shook hers._

_Warmth. That was the word that came to mind when she thought of Kaiden Alenko._

__

***

“What, you don’t trust me to drive?” Jane asked indignantly from the passenger seat. 

The orchard had these old, beat-up little carts for them to get around in. They must have been ancient, any indication of what they’d been called had been rubbed off. Kaiden had gestured to one with a flourish, a dramatic, “your chariot awaits,” and quickly booted her out of the drivers side. 

“Full offense, I’ve seen you drive. And at least one of us had to stay un-concussed.” 

“I thought I was the best humanity had to offer? I’ve driven a tank. This is a golf cart.” 

“Yeah, and in your hands, a brain blender.” 

“What? You don’t trust me?” She grins. 

Ouch. She catches a slight expression of pain on his face. Perhaps the two of them had talked about Horizon, forgiven each other, but with Hannah in the picture, refusing to let old wounds heal…well, maybe not her smartest choice of words. He covers it with a smile. “How about we get you actually seeing straight first?” 

“Oh come on—the nurse gave me the glasses to help me focus my eyes better. I barely need them anymore.” 

“Barely,” Kaiden rolled his eyes, and smiled. “Tell that to the DMV.” 

The main homestead was large, but not extravagant. It was made of the same light-treated wood as their own cabin, with large, red-curtained windows that were filled with light and moving figures. She could see the movement of laughter, heads tilted back, hands around wine glasses, and they made their way up the wooden steps onto the porch. Kaiden gestured for Jane to go first, bit she hesitated. 

“After you,” she said, hesitantly. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. She wasn’t exactly a people-person. She supposed she could always find a corner somewhere, make herself scarce until—  
The door opened before Kaiden could even knock. A very tall woman with a face reminiscent of Joy’s—an aunt, perhaps—and an Alliance jacket swept him into a hug that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Kaiden! I knew you were still kicking, you son-of-a-bitch! Get in here before your cousins—“ 

Her voice trailed off as she glanced up, her eyes meeting Shepard’s. She tried not to make eye contact for too long, managed a wave and a small smile. “Um, hi. I’m—“ 

“No shit, Kaiden,” her jaw dropped, and her grip around Kaiden loosens. “I thought your mom was just messing with us. You’re really—“

“Jane,” Kaiden cleared his throat before she can finish the sentence. “This is my Aunt Faith. Faith, this is my girlfriend. Commander—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to tell me who she is,” Faith waved his words away, stepping toward Shepard to examine her. It was rare that Jane had ever felt small despite her height, but under Faith’s massive statue, she began to feel to feel damn near close. “You’re the real deal, aren’t you?” She whispered. Before Jane could respond, she continued. “I thought you were dead. We all did. Holy shit…you’re a real living legend, aren’t you?” Jane blinked up at her, unsure what to say, before Faith grabbed them both by the wrists and dragged them inside. “Well, get inside then! Everyone is waiting for you!” 

Inside was an atmosphere of warmth, like something from an old Christmas movie. A fireplace, a long dining table heavy with food, laughter and flannels and sweaters. Some were drinking wine, laughing, their eyes a haze as they looked toward the door to see who had just arrived. As if they weren’t conspicuous enough, Faith’s voice bellowed across the room. “Hey guys, Kaiden’s back! And look who he brought!” 

There was an almost comical pause. She watched the family of melded faces turn, their eyes resting on Kaiden, delight and warmth and familiarity in their expressions, and then slowly turn to the stranger in their midst, their smiles fading into confusion and surprise, although positive or negative she couldn’t tell. She had that same tingling feeling under her skin that she felt when she was kneeled behind cover, waiting for either the enemy to spot her, or to find an opening, peer though the scope, and take the shot. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling, but it was familiar. 

Just then Kaiden hooked his finger around the belt loop of her jeans, pulling her close, wrapping an arm around her. She couldn’t help but smile up at him, at his gesture, giving her cover.  
And then the room seemed to come back to reality, like someone had hit play again. Several of Kaiden’s relatives were not shy, they practically ran for them, hugging Kaiden, shaking her hand, asking questions excitedly. _Are you really Commander Shepard? Like, the Commander Shepard. You’re really alive, then? You’re really dating my loser little cousin?_ It was almost overwhelming, but every face she saw was smiling, excited, even, to see her, to ask about her, to know her. Not just ask difficult questions, pushing her to justify her missteps or the decisions that kept her up at night, but more trivial things. _Is that your real hair color? You’re shorter than I thought. You really killed a reaper? By yourself? That wasn’t just something the tabloids made up? Have you had some of Uncle Archie’s hard cider—he makes it himself, you know?_

And there were children too, zooming around her feet, a boy and a girl, no more than 7 and 10 respectively. One of them had a model ship, which she excitedly showed Shepard. They danced around her feet, tugging at her arms, singing a chorus of questions. 

“What’s space like? Do you really float around all the time?” 

“Did you really kill a reaper?” 

“Did you have your own ship?” 

“Did you ever meet a Krogan?”

“Are they really that big?” 

She couldn’t help but smile, despite her slight discomfort. Truth to be told, she’d never spent much time around children. Almost none, really, she was afraid of saying something that could scare them, something they shouldn’t hear. But their eyes were big, excited, curious, and when she spoke they were silent with awe. 

“No, you don’t float around space all the time. Yes, I did kill a reaper, but I had help. And yes, I had my own ship,” she told them. Their mouths were open in surprise, eyes fixated on her. “And yes. I’ve known a lot of Krogan. They’re much bigger than you think. Some I’ve even called my friends.” 

“You were friends with a Krogan?”

“Oh yes. Very old friends. In fact, some might consider me an honorary—“ 

Before she could finish her answer, and hand touched her back. She turned, hoping it was Kaiden, but it was a stern-faced woman, just a few years younger than her. Her blood ran cold, and she wondered if this was the children’s mother. Had she said something wrong? Something she shouldn’t have? 

“A word, commander,” she said in a low voice. Jane nodded and followed her, back the hall, away from the noise. She caught Kaiden’s eyes, he was surrounded by a group of men around his age, presumably his cousins, and he seemed to pick up on the worry in her eyes and nodded to show he’d follow soon. 

The woman led her back to one of the bedrooms. It was small, orderly, with a opened footlocker at the foot of the bed. Someone must have just returned from active duty. Wordlessly, the woman went to the corner, where a small cot was hidden, covered by a plush blanket. She lifted it, revealing the small, squishy face of a sleeping infant. Her face was quite pink and wrinkly, her nose flat, and her head large and without even a trace of hair. Gently, the woman reached under her, lifting her into her arms as she looked down at her with a smile. She made a small cooing sound at the baby, who was still aside from the small bubbles of drool escaping her lips. 

“Would you like to hold her?” The woman asked quietly, rocking the child gently, a sudden warmth in her gaze. 

“Oh, um. Sure,” she replied hesitantly. The woman sat on the foot of the bed and patted the space next to her, signaling Shepard to sit, which she did. 

Gently, the woman placed the small bundle in Shepard’s arms. She frowned, laughing under her breath at Shepard’s inexperience. “Make sure you hold her head. Here. Like this,” the woman instructed her gently, moving Shepard’s elbow into place. “I brought her home for the first time on Wednesday.” 

Shepard held her stiffly, uncomfortably. She’d never held a baby before, and had never considered how fragile they were. In fact, she’d never even seen a child this young before. She was surprisingly small and surprisingly warm, her heat making its way through even her little pink onsie and the blanket she was swaddled in. Her breathing was loud, almost unnervingly so, and her face was a bit wrinkly, not like the smooth-faced babies she’d seen in vids before. She supposed that round-faced, doe-eyed expression must come later in life, perhaps in a few months. 

“She’s beautiful,” Shepard remarked, hoping this was the correct thing to say, still refusing to move for fear of waking her. The woman smiled, brushing her finger across her daughter’s face, causing her to tilt her head toward the motion and give a toothless smile. 

“I’m sure you don’t know what you’ve done for my family,” the woman said quietly after a few beats of silence, “I was an Alliance engineer once upon a time. My husband and I both. His ship was going down. You came for him. In the middle of reaper-controller space. You saved his life,” she said quietly, her eyes on her daughter. “The hospital let me take her home to mull over the name. I think it’s fate that you were brought here, after saving our family. I was hoping I could have your blessing. To name her after you. Jane.” 

Shepard looked at her, a look of befuddlement on her face, but the woman only smiled. “We would be so proud…to have her grow up to be just like you.” 

She stared at the woman long after she returned her gaze to her daughter. Like her? Tired and scarred, too weak to even care for herself? She couldn’t help but think back to her mother, how she regretted allowing her to join the Alliance, watching her walk into the same darkness that had claimed so many. Yes, it was her choice. But something sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach. She was practically a woman when she’d chosen her path. But what a terrible burden to put on someone so small. “You want her to join the Alliance?” 

The woman looked up, her eyebrows scrunched together. “I mean, no, not necessarily,” she shook her head “We just…want her to be kind. Brave. Like you.” 

The child gurgled in her arms, which must have caused Shepard to make a face, as she heard muffled laughter in the doorway. Kaiden was there, grinning, obviously recording on his Omni-tool. 

“What’s so funny?” Jane snipped at him. 

“You. You look utterly terrified. How the hell are you going to punch a reaper in the face and be afraid of an infant?” 

“Reapers don’t have self-destruct buttons on the tops of their heads,” Jane retorted. The baby squirmed in her arms and made a small noise, startling her. The woman laughed and signaled for Jane to hand her back, which she did gratefully. The child settled immediately into her mothers arms, returning to her still, smush-faced expression. 

“I think she likes you,” her mother said, rocking her a little. A lie, Shepard knew. The kid had no idea who she was, or where she was for that matter. 

“I guess we have a lot in common. A name, for one,” she said quietly, and the woman grinned at her. Now that she didn’t feel like she was holding the child’s life in her hands, she guessed she was kind of cute. Terrifyingly fragile, but cute. She reached a hesitant hand out to touch her small hand, which curled instinctively around her finger with surprising strength.

“Her nails are so…small,” Shepard remarked. 

Kaiden let out a small chuckle behind her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never held a baby before. You’re thirty-three years old.” 

“Um, no. I didn’t exactly command the Alliance’s first infant battalion,” she rolled her eyes, “where would I have met a baby?” 

Their eyes meet, and there’s a flicker of realization behind his eyes. This really is all new to her, he has to remind himself. As alien to her as, well, most people would find another planet. The large family, the countryside, children and, well, normal people. Not biotics, not soldiers, not Cerberus operatives or Shadow Brokers or Asari matriarchs. Just people. Real people. Some of these people had probably never even held a gun. Living lives, raising families, things she’d fought so hard to protect despite never knowing one of her own. 

He nodded toward the door. “Any chance I can steal you away?” 

“Of course,” she said with a sigh that really said _yes, please do._ She thanked his cousin and followed him though the dining room — swiftly enough no one noticed the pair of the hour had returned, and they slipped out a glass sliding door onto the back porch. The sun was setting to an orchestra of crickets, and it was getting cool. Shepard rolled her shoulders and sank into one of the many dingy patio chairs littered around, resting her face in her hands. Kaiden pressed a hand to her shoulder. 

“Tired?” He asked. She nodded without lifting up her head. “I know this is overwhelming. It’s okay if you want to leave.” 

She hesitated, considering the offer. “I’m glad we came. I…It’s nice talking to people without the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders. But I feel like I don’t even know what to talk about anymore.” 

“I mean, you made an impression. They all seem to adore you.” 

She didn’t seem to react, but he liked to imagine it at least brought a small smile to her face. “They don’t even know me. The…real me, I mean.” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, finally sitting down next to her, tucking a stand of her thin hair behind her ear. She pulled away, as if to further evade his gaze. “Jane, what’s wrong?” 

Before she could answer, the sliding glass door opened, finally bringing her gaze upward. In the doorway was his Aunt Faith once again, visibly tipsy, a bottle of his uncles’ cider in her hand. “There you are! Get your asses in here! Everyone’s asking how our little Kadey-Wadey caught the attention of the savior of the galaxy! Come on!” 

Without skipping a beat, Jane rose, a smile that did not match her eyes on her face, shoulders back. He knew that look. The face of someone ambushed with an interview before they themselves had a moment to catch their breath. The stance of someone walking into battle the didn’t sign up for. 

He reached out to her, trying to pull her back. _We don’t have to do this. We can just go home_ , he tried to tell her with his eyes. But she’d already gone, slipping behind his aunt in the doorway, waiting for him at the threshold. She looked tired as she reached out a hand, waiting for him to join her. 

His hand was warm in hers. 

***

So how did they meet? 

The easier answer was the day that Kaiden boarded the Normandy. But there was more to it than that. 

Kaiden had every reason to hate her. She could hardly say she was kind to him. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. More than once, she’d been sitting in the mess, reading or finishing a report while Kaiden was mingling with the other crew members. Jenkins, a new recruit, seemed particularly fascinated with Kaiden’s biotics. Figured. He was an earth kid, young, inexperienced. To him it probably seemed like magic. She would watch while Kaiden used his biotics to mess with people. Pull their glasses right out of reach just as they reached for a drink. Move pens across the room while the victim looked tirelessly for their missing writing utensil. Jane tried her best to ignore it. She’d earned a grudging respect from her teammates. She didn’t want to tarnish that by being a hard-ass. Her own mother told her to lighten up, surely, she could let this go. 

Until her coffee ended up in her lap. 

There was stunned silence as she glared across the table. If she wasn’t so heated, she would have laughed at the look on their faces, two grown men scared shitless at the worlds shortest Alliance solider. She rose to her feet, her face ripe with anger. She pulled her mug into her hand from the floor with her biotics and slammed it on the table, cracking the handle clean off. 

“Your powers aren’t a goddamn toy, Alenko,” she snapped. It was like the whole world came to a halt, no one dared to breathe. She couldn’t even begin to explain why it made her so angry, it just did. “You’re a solider. Not a child. Act like it. Both of you.” She stomped back to her quarters before she did something she regretted. 

Of course he came later and apologized. Explained his side, how he understood how dangerous it could be, and she wanted to slam her head in the airlock. She felt so stupid, listening to him pour his heart out about BRAIN camp, so vulnerable and kind and understanding. Her irrational outburst made her face go red with embarrassment. All she could do while he talked was look at him with a dumbfounded look on her face. They had so much in common, but she could hardly think of her own experiences without the corners of her eyes burning. 

Nevertheless, things were different after that. Like he understood how deeply the world had made her ache. How they shared such similar wounds. 

He started inviting her everywhere, trying to get her out of the ship more. And of course she would go out with them not because she wanted to because Kaiden always asked because she knew he felt bad for her, and she knew she had to keep busy and keep living. But when they sat there together, she realized how much like Omar Kaiden was, and how much like Cassie Joker could be, and she would feel this keep ache in the pit of her stomach, would hit this nerve she was certain she’d cauterized long ago. And part of her wanted to get close to them, remembering how it felt to have friends like Omar and Cassie, but it was that idea that kept her at bay. Her spirit couldn’t survive another Akuze. She couldn’t lose another Cassie. Another Omar. Under her boot was that stupid star that Cassie had left behind. On her eyebrow was the scar that marked the day that she’d failed her. One glance at her reflection and she knew she wouldn’t put herself through that again. And so, the so-called stick in her ass stayed put.  
But she remembered the joke that did it. It was the first time she’d really visited the cockpit. She came in after a mission, pulling off her helmet, her plates covered in dust. Kaiden was in the co-pilot seat and they were laughing and discussing something, when suddenly Joker swiveled around time look at her, his face serious. 

“I think you’re on the wrong ship.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“We might be able to give you a lift to the Citadel, the Volus embassy is probably missing you, and we don’t need another intergalactic incident.” Silence. Kaiden coughed slightly. “Really, nothing? Don’t you get it? You’re short? And in all your armor you look kind of like…never mind.” 

“I told you it wasn’t funny,” Kaiden sighed, hanging his head and shaking it in shame. 

She didn’t laugh. At least not until she was out of ear shot. 

It was a slow fade into letting herself feel for someone again. It was like Akuze had never happened. They were sitting at a barely-surviving sketchy bar at yet another colony. Cassie was way too drunk and leaving her number on the napkins for the bartenders, Omar was giving her shit because no one could read her handwriting anyway. Things were as they should be. Tomorrow would be a day like any other. 

When she was with Kaiden and Joker she laughed like she hadn’t since the day Cassie had died, snorting the way she’d always made fun of, calling her a little piglet and grabbing her sides until she laughed more. But when she opened her eyes, there was no Cassie making oinking sounds. There was no Omar shaking his head like they were idiots. There were two of her crew members staring at her like they’d seen a ghost. And they had. The Shepard who laughed like that was long thought to be dead. 

Despite everything, she’d cracked, and she swore it was like Kaiden knew that. He kept trying to weasel his way into her heart, trying to make her laugh more, trying so hard to make her to smile.

That was the story she told his family. But there was another one, a different version. 

It must have been…what? A few days after Ios?

“I love you,” he spoke into her hair, his breath warm on her scalp. She was glad to hide her face against his chest. The renown Commander Shepard, frozen like a deer in headlights. 

Fuck, just say it back. Quickly, like a regret. Softly, like a secret. For the love of god say something, anything, don’t leave him with nothing like that. 

“That’s okay,” he said after a pause, and he kissed her again. “I wanted you to know where I stand. That’s it.” 

It was like a sigh of relief. It was one of the things she…well, loved, about him. The patience. The understanding. Maybe he didn’t know the deepest parts of her yet, but he gave her room for hesitation. For thought. A push when she needed it. A pause when she didn’t. 

Of course that whole train of thought came crashing to a halt the day she ended up pointing a gun at him on the Citadel, looking at those long brown eyelashes through a scope. God, why couldn’t she had just whispered it to him, like a secret? Refusing to say it meaning nothing, it didn’t make it any less true, no matter what she told herself. All she could hope was that when she finally said it, it wouldn’t be in the past tense. 

But then she lowered her gun. Motioned for the others to lower theirs. I trust you, she tried to tell him with her eyes. Was that an I love you? In her mind, in a twisted way, it was perhaps the closest she’d come to saying it. 

In that moment, feeling his words tickle the back of her head, as she felt his heart against her back, so warm and alive, so present, so patient. She fell in love with him, even if she couldn’t say it, even if he didn’t know it. 

That was the story she kept to herself.


	18. All is Fair

_Her dreams were lined with faces, a rotating cast of characters.  
Ashley visits that night. _

_“How could you? I was only twenty-five.”_

_“Don’t tell me you left me there just so you could get with Alenko.”_

_“I trusted you. You left me behind. Just like Cassie.”_

_She blinked. What was she supposed to say? I’m sorry. I tried writing your sisters every year but, well, I died, I missed two of your birthdays. I loved you. I really did. But Kaiden was with the bomb. It had to go off. Otherwise there was no point._

_And she couldn’t lie. She feared the day she could no longer keep his eyes in her life._

_She’d spent too long hating herself. But for the first time, she felt like she was something worth loving. She liked who she was under his gaze. She couldn’t go back to the person she was before._

_I’m sorry, Ash. I’m sorry._

_Tears in her eyes. “I never wanted to die.”_

_I know. I know._

_I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry._

***

She woke with a start, freezing cold and covered in sweat. 

She rolled out of the unfamiliar bed, eyes scanning the room, trying to assess the terrain. An alarm clock with a red display, slightly illuminating the room. A rising sun through the curtains. Dawn. White halls. Clothes strewn across the floor. No hum of an engine. No display of model ships. No stars outside her window. 

She glanced behind her. Kaiden was still sleeping, his arm stretched out to the place where she’d once been. She must have slipped out from under his grasp, but she didn’t remember.  
She curled in on herself at the end of the bed, her head between her knees, drinking in air, clawing at her own arm until she drew blood. Real, or not real? Real, she decided. You can’t hurt yourself in dreams, at least that’s what she’d heard. She tried her best to brush away the small droplets of blood left behind, smearing it across her arm like war paint. 

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face until her cheeks went numb. It was almost a surprise when she looked up, more than usual. So often she didn’t recognize this body. Not just the burns, the scars, the thinning hair. Where was not the central question for her, but when. It was a shock to find herself a woman of almost thirty-five, with wrinkles in the places she expressed the most long since staking their claim on her skin. There was no longer a scar though her eyebrow, her eyes weren’t bludgeoned, and her nose was only slightly crooked instead of forming a winding path up the middle of her face. She sat on the toilet lid and examined her ankle, the place where Cassie’s stars once were before Cerberus hit the reset button on most of her body. If it weren’t for her slowly aging form, she could almost pretend none of this had happened. She would have continued to grow up on earth. Perhaps she’d have succeeded in the Reds, she was a dangerous biotic after all, and none would dare to question her. Perhaps she’d be in an out of jail, or more likely, zipped up in a body bag.

Kaiden was right. Her hair was much longer, if uneven and singed in places. It was almost as long as it was when she first enlisted, and a chill ran down her spine when she thought of the day her mother forced her to sit on the edge of her bed for the better part of an hour, forcing a brush though her curls so she could stuff it in a uniform-approved bun at the base of her neck. Still, she was different now. Her aging face was a reminder of who she was, of all that had happened to her. Real. Raw. Present. 

She heard movement in the kitchen, startling her. Heart pumping, she kept low, her back pressed against the wall as she slid down the hall. She tried her best to keep her breath even, reaching for her holster and finding nothing but the soft fabric of her pajama pants. 

“Jane? Is that you, dear?” 

She froze instinctually at the sound of Joy’s voice before slowly creeping to the kitchen. Sure enough, Joy was standing by the fridge, handfuls of groceries in her hands. She looked tired. The oven clock read 5:30. 

“I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said gently, continuing to place things around the kitchen. She’d already set out a fruit bowl on their small dining table, and had even brought a vase with sunflowers. She smiled at Jane when she noticed them. “Aren’t they nice? The supermarkets aren’t always well stocked these days, but getting there early has its perks. How do you take your coffee?” 

“Oh. Um. It’s okay, I can get it,” she stumbled across her words, the question catching her off guard. 

“Don’t be silly, sit. I’m making some for myself anyway,” she waved her concerns away. “Now how do you take it? I think it says a lot about a person, you know.” 

“Just a little sugar. Not a lot.” 

“Hmm. I suspected that much,” she nodded, as if she’d been told a tremendous secret. She watched as she prepared it for her on a little metal device on the stove, putting it in a mug painted with the Vancouver skyline, and noted how instead of helping herself to the pot, she poured water from a kettle on the stove and fixed herself a cup of tea. She sat at the table and patted the space across from her, her eyes soft, begging her to stay. Jane obeyed but squirmed under her gaze. They didn’t have much in common, and most of the conversations she’d had with own her mother were about strategies, tactics, sometimes politics if they were being casual. What did adults who didn’t make their lives out of war talk about? What did mothers, mothers who weren’t also superior officers, talk to their children about? 

“You must have seen so much of the galaxy in your career.” 

“Huh?” Her voice caught her off-guard. How long had she been staring at nothing, lost in her own thoughts? “Oh. Yeah. Kaiden mentioned you’ve never been off-world.” 

“Sometimes I wonder if I missed out, something had to be special about it if so many of the people I love can’t seem to keep away. What makes it better than earth?” 

It hardly took any thought. “Everything, I guess. For me at least.” 

Joy shot her a sympathetic look, reaching for her hand across the table. She snatched it away. “May I speak candidly, Joy?” 

Joy frowned. Laughed a bit, uncomfortably. “I’m not your superior officer. You can say whatever you want.” 

“Why did you…why are you being so nice to me?” 

Joy does a double take between her tea and Shepard, looking bewildered. “Because I like you?”  
“You don’t even know me.” 

Joy laughed a bit, shaking her head. She must have been quite pretty, Jane thought, when she was young. Not that she hadn’t aged gracefully, she had, despite the tell the past few months must have taken on her. Her hair was still shiny and quite dark, barely interrupted with grey. She wondered if she dyed it before everything went to shit. “I know you make my son very happy. And I know you care about him. He’s told me so much about you.” 

“Like what?” 

“Enough to know that you might be the only people in the world who can understand each other,” she answered uncomfortably, wrapping her tea bag around her pinky finger and refusing to meet her eyes. “He was always such a good kid. Despite everything.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“BRAIN Camp. I thought we’d messed him up so bad. Eamon and I — we didn’t know what to do. The way they treated him, what he had to do — I thought we were doing the best we could. How do you recover from failing as a parent that badly?” She paused, as if waiting for a response, but it wasn’t like Shepard had any reassuring words. She’d never been a parent, or anything near it. “I worry, you know? He used to tell us everything before BRAIN camp…I know he doesn’t want to worry me. He doesn’t like to tell me how much danger he’s in. But…I know more than I let on.” 

She picked at a chip on the wooden table. Her nails were painted, pale pink, and chipped at the edges. Another difference between them; make stark with Shepard’s own stubby-nailed, scarred hands resting on the table. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I think you were meant to be part of this family,” she smiled, and reached across the table toward her, clasping her hand between hers. This time, she did not pull away. “Our family. I’ve been keeping score; of how many times you’ve saved my sons life. You’ve always been there for him. I owe you that.” 

The contrast between Hannah’s attitude and Joy’s almost gave Shepard whiplash. She wondered if they’d got along. Joy’s bright and loving nature against Hannah’s cold shell. An unstoppable force meets and immovable object. Of course Kaiden had done the same to her once, oh how history could repeat itself. 

She was still too stunned to respond, even after several moments passed. The only sound was Joy taking a sip of her tea, tapping her nails on the table. “I know it must be hard, being back on earth.” 

“Huh?” 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. You just…I know you’ve had it rough. And I know you have Admiral Shepard now…but whenever Kaiden told me about you, whenever I read about you in the news…it broke my heart.” 

“It’s okay. Really.” It wasn’t, but it also wasn’t Joy’s problem. She certainly wasn’t Shepard’s biological mother, and it wasn’t like she had anything to do with the first decade and a half of her life. 

“I’m not trying to pity you. I just can’t stop thinking about how long I prayed for a daughter, and how long I’m sure you prayed for a mother. I’m sorry if it’s an overstep—I just—I guess I’m just trying to say I’m glad you’re at least here now, Jane.” 

She couldn’t put her finger on it, but for some reason those words hit her like a punch to the throat. Of course, she’d gotten over her own failure of a mother years ago, or so she told herself, and Hannah was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She’d mourned the death of her relationship with her birth mother long ago. But the idea that she was wanted somewhere, that she could be loved as just a daughter, not a ward or a solider…she had to stop herself. Hannah loved her, she knew that. But there was a softness to Joy that Hannah lacked. Something she told herself over again over again she’d survived her whole life without, and she’d survive the rest too. 

And then there were her last words. _I’m glad you’re here, Jane._ How many times had she been told that by someone who wasn’t pinned down under cover, looking toward her with relief because of her uniform and her gun? She couldn’t quite figure out yet what that meant, to be loved for who she was, not what she could do. But she liked the feeling, she thought.  
After years of practice, she always thought she was good at making her face an unreadable mask. But she couldn’t have been too good, judging from the way Joy smiled, the way her eyebrows formed a peak of sympathy above her eyes. She moved as if to reach across the table again, to comfort, to connect, but before she could she felt a hand on her shoulder. Kaiden’s breath in her hair. He kissed the top of her head, and she smiled, his warmth melting all her troubles away. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Kaiden looked a bit concerned as he crossed his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter, obviously trying to decipher the tone of the room.  
Joy smiled and shook her head, her eyes crinkled. She carried her emotions in the same way Kaiden did, Shepard realized, their eyes looked the same when they smiled. “Of course not, I was just leaving to drop of your aunts’ groceries. Be a dear and come over when you’re ready, the kids miss you.” Her voice was cheery, almost sing-song again, no trace of the serious tone from before. 

“Oh, uh, sure. We can come over in a bit,” he told her, and she quickly packed away the rest of the groceries before floating out the door. When she disappeared from the porch, Kaiden turned his attention back to Shepard, looking bewildered once more. “What were you too talking about earlier?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she said, but warmth radiated from her core, running down her fingertips like adrenaline. There was a spring to her step, or as much as a spring in her step as there could be with her limp. “Nothing important anyway.”

****

The children were playing in the front yard, throwing something that seemed to burst on impact at each other, laughing when one struck the other, leaving them soaked. Joy slid off the cart immediately, waving as she headed up the steps to Faith’s small cabin. The children rushed to them immediately, and Shepard felt a sudden rush of panic again. What do kids even talk about? 

“Uncle Kaiden! Uncle Kaiden!” They ran for him, abandoning their game. The boy was soaked the the bone. The grabbed onto his arms, and he flexed, lifting them into the air and spinning them around until they laughed and let go. Kaiden frowned at them. “Isn’t it a little cold to have a water balloon fight?” 

The girl shrugged. “Grandma doesn’t care. Will you play with us? Please?” 

Kaiden grinned. Reached into a bright blue bucket nearby and held one of the balloons. “You better run.” 

The kids screamed, scrambling over each other to get away. Kaiden chased them for a moment, clearly giving them a generous head start. He pursued them for a bit before they became disinterested again, only chasing each other, and Kaiden returned to her only slightly out of breath. 

“Whose kids are these anyway?” Shepard asked, watching them chase each other. The girl was hiding behind a tree, feigning running to one side over again over while her brother complained and told her to just go already. She laughed at his frustration. 

“The girl is Alex, and the little one is Ethan,” Kaiden pointed “my cousins’ kids. My aunt Faith is watching them.” 

“Where are their parents?” She had a feeling she already knew the answer, and almost wished she hadn’t asked. The girl was missing several teeth. She couldn’t have even left elementary school yet. 

“MIA. They both reported for active duty when the Reapers hit earth.” Of course. She should have known, but the confirmation almost made her feel sick, like she’d eaten something rotten. How was it fair that she’d survived, but Kaiden’s cousin hadn’t? That now these kids would grow up, just as she had, with no mother and no father? She pressed her nails into her palm, reminding herself it wasn’t her fault, that of course these kids would be okay, they had other family, much more than she had, but it still ached. To not only know there were even more orphans in the world now, more people like her, more people who wouldn’t be so lucky, who’d fuck up one too many times, who’d end up god-knows-where—

“We haven’t told them yet. Faith said they’re going to tell them if they don’t hear anything by the end of next week,” Kaiden finally said, relieving what felt like hours of silence. “At some point we have to give them closure…but we can buy them a little more time before— “ 

“Before everything falls out from under them,” Shepard continued solemnly, picking up one of the colorful items from the bucket. It was cold, freezing really, and squishier than she imagined. “What are these even for anyway?” 

“You’re kidding, right? They’re water balloons. For a water balloon fight? Don’t tell me you don’t know what a water balloon fight is.” 

“I mean, I can put two and two together,” she shrugged. 

Kaiden’s face twisted into a grin. He grabbed one of the balloons and told several steps back, and before Shepard could react, he pelted her with it, soaking though her jacket at it burst on impact. 

“Oh, it’s on, Alenko.” 

“Alex, Ethan,” Kaiden yelled in the kid’s direction, already stepping away “mayday, mayday, your captain is requesting backup!” 

She might have been injured and weakened, but at the very least she was still faster than the average 5th grader. Not that they didn’t give her a run for her money. It was hard enough to keep on Kaiden’s tail as it was, let alone with the kids chasing right behind her. She rolled, dodging most of their attacks, only allowing one to land a hit on her back. She turned around occasionally to return fire, but the balloons seemed to evade her attempts to aim, most of them landed pitifully in the grass, no impact. She could feel them gaining on her, feel her own lungs begin to shutter. She made one last sprint, using the last of her energy to take cover behind a tree. 

She heard the grass rustle, someone trying to be stealthy. An ambush. She tried her best to quiet her own ragged breathing, freezing from the water, her nerves tingling. She peeked around the corner, locked on to her target, and lobbed her last balloon with all her might.  
“Ouch!” Alex screamed, falling to the ground as the balloon burst across her face. She fell face-first into the grass and did not stir. 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

“Alex?” Her fault. All her fault. She was fine, right? She had to be fine. It was just a balloon, she didn’t mean it. Oh god she didn’t mean it. What if she—

Shepard knelt behind her, turning her tiny body over. Her face was slack, limp, lifeless. Fuck. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t—

Suddenly her face sprang to life, breaking into a grin. She stirred, pulled something she was hiding behind her tiny body, and slapped the side of Shepard’s face with her final balloon, taking off with astounding speed before Shepard even processed what had happened, leaving her kneeling in the grass sputtering, her hair dripping wet. 

_Just a game. It was just a game. It was—_  
Kaiden jogged to her with a laugh. “Pretty obvious you never grew up with siblings. Oldest trick in the—“ he caught sight of Shepard’s face, stopping in his tracks, his smiling fading. “Hey, you alright?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She wiped the water from her eyes. Just a game, she had to keep telling herself. But that didn’t stop how hard her heart hammered in her chest, beating against her ribs, her ears, making her limbs feel numb. Just a game. We’re in Vancouver. We’re safe. It was a game. We’re—

Kaiden reached out, as if to touch her, to draw her closer, but she stepped back, watching the children behind him, who had stopped their playing to stare, perhaps afraid they had done something wrong. These were their last days of believing they had parents out there who loved them, who would return for them. It wasn’t a feeling Shepard knew. But she’d be damned if she took even a moment of that away from them. 

She forced a grin. “You better run, Alenko. Because your ass is grass.” She forced herself to laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as fake as it felt.


	19. The Snow Day

Restless again. 

It’s not her body that yearns for movement, but her mind. That was the worst part about house arrest. The stillness, waiting for the moment shit hit the fan. Her brain wouldn’t stop buzzing, thoughts pinging off the inside of her skull. Finally leaving on the Normandy was hardly a relief—not after what it took to earn her freedom—but at least she could pace and move and match how the inside felt. 

Most nights she wasn’t the only one up, especially as they neared the end. Liara was a frequent companion, she was always busy with something. Sometimes they’d talk, but mostly Shepard would just watch her work, entranced by her focus, just glad she wasn’t alone with her thoughts. Just let me do this one thing, Liara would say, and Shepard would tell her how she needed rest, despite the ache behind her own eyes. 

Often it was Garrus, for similar reasons to Liara. He was always working on something, those damn guns, but he talked more while he worked. Sometimes it felt like it didn’t even matter that she was there, he would just speak his mind and she would listen and agree, just to let him know she was still there. She didn’t mind it. It was comforting. Garrus had been though thick and thin with her, and there were damn few that she’d trust without question. His voice was familiar. Soothing. Safe. And listening to someone else made no more room in her head for her own thoughts. It was the closest to stillness she could find those days. The closest to rest. She couldn’t had made it out alive without those nights. 

Sometimes it was Tali. They’d sit in the engine room and talk for hours. About Tali’s new duties, her frustrations with the fleet, how she felt like she’d crack under the pressure of being made an admiral, or her fears of not fulfilling her fathers dying wish (or worse, following him in mistakes in her desperation). Shepard couldn’t help but feel a pang of affection as she tried to offer her guidance, reminiscing about how young she was once, how she used to sleep so close to the engine room because the quiet bothered her too much for rest. How similar they had become. But Tali would tire soon enough, and Shepard would order her to bed, a command that would be returned to her, which she would inevitably defy.

When she was alone, which was most nights, she would go to the shuttle bay and pace. Jog around the perimeter if her muscles didn’t ache from the days work. She would be alone, the only sound her own heavy boots against steel, her own heavy breathing. Kaiden used to say she was always moving, even in her sleep. She was just like her damn hamster, always spinning in that wheel. What was the word he called her once? _Squirrelly._

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He laughed, like it was obvious. “You know. You’re small. And fidgety.” 

“I am not fidgety.” 

“Then obviously no one has ever told you how you sleep.” 

Kaiden. The thought of his name was enough to make her stop in her tracks, winding her, like she’d just fallen off a chain-link fence. How could she have just…frozen like that? When he’d nearly died? She’d never done that before. Ruthless efficiency, that was her tactic. Never let feelings get in the way of what needed to be done. Thank God Liara was there, she could have stayed frozen forever, watched him die while she did nothing. What the hell was wrong with her? 

She’d gone nearly four decades never having frozen like that before, but it was catching up with her now. Nearly every night she’d wake up with a start, as if someone had grabbed her by the shoulders and shaken her awake. She’d bolt upright, her heart racing, eyes searching the darknsss, and find nothing. Most of the time it was nearly two in the morning, and she was learning it was pointless to try to drift back to sleep. A routine she was used to by now, but this time there was no array of friends and crew members, all working on their own species Circadian rhythm, that she could use to find at least one person still awake. 

The living room provided no comfort. If was quiet, too quiet, at times making her wonder if something was wrong with her hearing. The house would settle, something she didn’t know about until the first night she noticed it, she was convinced someone was breaking into the house and woke Kaiden up for backup, making her jump just as much as the first time it happened. If you laid still on the couch, you’d start to notice the ticks of the small old-style clock on the wall. You’d become aware of your own breathing, your heart. How easily it could stop. Her tongue would lie like a stone in her throat, too aware of her own breathing, the systems ceasing to be automatic, as if she could forget to do so in her sleep and cease to be, as if she hadn’t been sleeping for thirty/three years worth of her life. Too much space for those thoughts. 

Instead she’d sit out on the front porch, watching the skyline, curled in the wicker bench with the chipping white paint. It reminded her of being on watch duty as a recruit. It reminded her of having a role, a purpose. 

She would always wake with a blanket around her, sometimes alone, but usually Kaiden would join her, and she’d open her eyes to find her head on his shoulder, sapping his warmth.   
He’d always smile when she opened her eyes. Always ask “hey, how long have you been out here?” 

And she’d lie and reply “oh, not long. I just needed some air,” which was a lie, one he had to become increasingly aware of as the bags under her eyes grew deeper, as she responded to people slower, as she’d doze off at the oddest of times. She was waiting for the confrontation, for him to ask what was wrong in a way she wouldn’t be able to escape, wouldn’t be able to dodge. 

The truth was she didn’t know. She should be happy. She had everything she’d never dared to dream of, never dared to hope she’d find on the other side of the war. It was a miracle she was alive, that they were both alive, that anyone was, really. 

Something was nagging her, a feeling of doom, like all this wasn’t real, like it would be taken from her in a heartbeat, that any peace she had was a lie. At some point, she’d open her eyes to another world, one she was needed in, one where the fight wasn’t over. And as terrible as it sounded, at least she knew where she fit in there. 

People like her, people built like machines for war, didn’t get endings like this. Not ones that lasted, anyway. 

****

The news was not something Shepard liked watching. 

It felt like drowning. Despite the fact that everything seemed nearly perfect, she felt like she had too much on her plate already. Anything more would tip her over the edge. She didn’t need to know about food shortage in Denver, or that New York was struggling to keep their water systems clean, or that hospitals across the globe were full to capacity and with flu season worse than ever, they were going to lose people. It was overwhelming, made her feel like the world was falling in on itself, made her shut down, go into full “commander-mode,” as Kaiden called it, ready to fix things, ready to serve again, even if there was nothing she could do. 

But the worst was when they’d mention her. Looking for her. Toying with the rumors that she was alive. It made her feel too real. Made her come to terms with her broken body, a future she didn’t plan for. She was afraid of being poked and prodded and pried upon, of giving up what little peace she may have found. She hadn’t planned on making it this far, on living to see the other side of the war. She bad barely processed what this meant for her, let alone the people who were holding their breath, waiting for her to rise again. 

Joy spends her rare evenings off with her, trying to teach her what she calls “grounding techniques.” Things like being focused on the present, on the breath in your lungs, shit like that. But how is that helpful when there are times where the present feels like shit, like the whole damn world is on fire for the fifth time today? Why would you want to feel it even more?   
She frowned, deep in thought, when Shepard expressed how none of this made her feel better. “Try to think of a time you were happy. At peace.” 

At peace, huh?   
_  
They are on the citadel. Shore leave. Going on a bar crawl. Cassie is drunk. They pass a group of turians. Cassie nudges her.  
”Wanna see something funny?” She asks, “Those turians are young, you can tell by their uniforms. I bet none of these jackasses have ever really met a human before.”   
Before Jane can respond, Cassie has taken off. She reaches a hand up to her hair, tied into a tight bun, and pulls it down. She starts screaming, like she’s being murdered, oh my god, oh my god, someone please help me!   
The turians panic, clearly thinking hair isn’t supposed to move like that, like something is broken. They approach her, but quickly leave, murmuring expletives that don’t quite translate under their breath as Cassie bursts out laughing. “Gets them every time,” she manages between gasps for breath. _

She didn’t scream when she died. It was probably the quietest she’d ever been in her short life. She was so silent, Jane didn’t even see her go. 

Fuck. Something else, she’d remind herself, heart racing. Something happy.  
 _  
Kaiden. The way he smiles at her. It was in that brief moment where everything seemed like it was going to be okay. They’d saved the Citadel. They had their ship back after Ilos. Jane wondered if this was what it felt like to be in love, and not only be in love, but be loved back. It felt like dancing. Well, not dancing in the way that she danced. The back and forth. The rhythms. The closeness._

_They were docked on some backwater planet, getting some simple repairs and refueling, just for a few hours._

_“Hey Commander, I’m going for a walk, getting a little cooped up here. Want to come?”  
She smiles. The language of fraternization. Want to get out of here, where no one will see us? Her mother would be furious if she knew about Kaiden. She supposed it was payback for never getting the experience as a teenager to sneak a boy into her room. It was thrilling, doing something you weren’t supposed to do. Being with someone you weren’t supposed to be with. How lame would her teenage self find her now? That this was her only act of rebellion? _

_“I suppose some fresh air would do me some good,” she stretches, following him outside.  
It’s cold. Snowing. It piles up around the docks. They walk in silence until they were out of sight from prying eyes and cameras alike. _

_“Sometimes I can’t believe even light years away, I can’t escape the snow,” Kaiden says, childishly sticking his tongue out to catch a snowflake. “I hope we don’t get back and find out this is toxic or something.”_

_“What are you doing?”_

_“I’m—I’m catching a snowflake on my tongue. Wait. Don’t tell me you never—“_

_“No. That’s gross.”_

_“What, you never played in the snow when you were a kid?” She shakes her head, looking disgusted. “You grew up in Detroit for Christ’s sake. Deprived.”_

_“You ever hear of something called frostbite? Water pollution? Exposure—“  
Before she could continue, he pushes her toward one of the snow banks. She lets out a scream, but he grabs her by the jacket before she can fall, pulling her back into an embrace. His breath is hot, it tickles her nose. _

_“Come on, I would never—“_

_Before he can finish, Jane smirks, pushed him right back. He falls, hard, into the snow, but not without grabbing her arm and taking her down with him. They fall in a cold heap on top of each other, for a moment, basking in the vapor of each other’s breathing. She reaches out to touch his face, and she smiles. So warm and alive. He catches her hand and holds it there. For a moment, there are no reapers. There is no council. There is no danger. There are no rules saying who can love who. There are just two lovers, in the snow.  
_  
But there was a countdown over their heads, and they didn’t even know it. Those moments were numbered. How many times would he see the stars reflected in the darkness of her eyes? How many times would he run his fingers down her bare spine, connecting the dots of her freckles, as she wiggled under his grasp, telling him to stop, that tickled? How many days did they have left before the Normandy went down with its captain, with her? A week, maybe? And then no more. That memory of them in the snow was probably the last thing Kaiden had. She wondered if it was as special to him as it was to her, mundane as it was.

She shook her head. No reason to think like that. Keep moving forward. That wasn’t the last. She is alive. She is here. There is time to make many more moments in the snow. No more living off of starving memories. 

She thought of this as she dried off from the shower. She could hear the TV in the living room. She paused, knowing Kaiden would respectfully turn it off when she came out, knowing he liked to get caught up when she was out of earshot. But he didn’t turn off the screen fast enough. He must not have heard her turn the water off, or else was too distracted to notice. Self-destructive curiosity got the better of her. She said nothing, watched, waited. 

The snow in her happy place melts. Her mother’s face flashed across the screen. 

***

“Kaiden.” He voice was trained. But angry. She was holding something back. Seething. “What the fuck is going on?” 

His face was red. Like her been caught doing something wrong. Shepard reached for the remote, preventing him from turning it off. “Jane, it’s nothing. It’s just gonna upset you.”   
“Oh? Like I’m not already upset?” Her face felt hot. She reached past him. Perhaps he was stronger than her now, but not necessarily faster. Still, he caught her wrist before she could squeeze her hand around the remote. Their eyes met. Don’t fucking try to protect me, they warn. He let go. She flicked the news back on. 

And there she was. Sallow skin. Cinnamon brown eyes. That same hooked nose. Freckles. Her name didn’t need to appear on the screen. She’d aged, but she was the same. Frozen in time.   
“—So proud of her, may she Rest In Peace,” the woman cried. A link flashed on the bottom of the screen. A donation page. HELP GRIEVING MOTHER FIND HERO DAUGHTER — DONATE TO SHEPARD BODY RETRIEVAL FUND. 

“It’ll be okay,” Kaiden reassured her, reaching for her. His hand brushed hers, down her arm, and she jerked away as if in pain for reasons she couldn’t explain with words. “One of these looneys comes up every few weeks. They’ll give her a DNA test and it’ll go away. You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Suddenly it hit her in the chest like a kick. She leaned on the couch for support, shaking, unsure what else to do with her body. Her face tensed, gritting her teeth so hard it made her jaw ache, shaking her fists, unable to express her rage in any significant way. She wrapped her arms around herself, digging her nails into her skin. Kaiden reached for stop her, but she jerked away. “Fuck,” she said. “FUCK,” she yelled, so loud it made the glass of the hutch shake. “FUCK.”   
“Jane, what’s the matter? What’s going on?” 

“How dare she. How FUCKING dare she,” she slammed her hands into the closet thing, the recliner, which nearly tipped on its side. Anger boiled inside her in a way she couldn’t even recognize, let alone cope with. Too much to handle inside, it spat forth, furrowing like smoke. “She took my childhood away from me, wasn’t that fucking enough? Now she’s taking my dignity. My fucking privacy. And I can’t even say anything or else the whole fucking world will be in my business again. Fuck. Fuck her. Fuck me. FUCK,” She screamed again, then was silent, hanging her head, still shaking which what he presumed was rage. When had she fallen to her knees, cradling her vitals as if she’d been fatally wounded? She didn’t remember Kaiden knelt down next to her, tucking a piece of hair from her face to find she was crying. Her face was red, tears streaked her face, but it wasn’t sorrow she felt. 

“Jane, talk to me, what’s going on? That can’t be her. Your mom—your birth mom—you said she died.” 

“She fucking should have,” Shepard whispered. “She—she—“Words failed her. How could she begin to explain the hurt, the betrayal, from the one person on earth who was supposed to love you unconditionally? Whose every biological impulse was hard-wired to protect you? How could she explain that this failure of motherly instinct was her fault—no, not her fault, she had to remind herself—but made to feel like her fault for so long that it hardly mattered if it was or not?

“Jane—I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Please. Talk to me.”

She shook her head. Words failed her, time and time again. But he seemed to understand.  
“Shit, it’s really her?” 

She hated herself for how angry that question made her, for the look of pure venom she gave Kaiden. His eyes went wide. Fearful? No. No. Please—

She nodded. Pressed her palms for her scalp, trying to rub out the headache behind her eyes.   
“I need to go to her,” she sputtered, trying desperately to stop her shaking. This was not who she was. She was not a coward. She was not afraid. She was not frozen by fear.

And she couldn’t allow anything or anyone to make her into something she was not. No one had that power over her. _No one—_

“I need to find her. I need to get to Detroit.” 

“You want to reconnect with her?” 

No.” She stood up. No more feeling this way. She was commander _fucking_ Shepard. Not even a Reaper made her cower in fear. “I’m going to kill her.”


	20. Mistakes We Pay For

_“You can’t keep losing control like this.”_

_Hannah had her by the arm, hard, dragging her out of the cafeteria and into the hall. Jane’s face was hot, with anger, with embarrassment. A younger girl sobbed in the next room, clutching her (probably broken) arm. The other kids would rally against her, but it wasn’t like she cared. Her biotics granted her privileges, immunity. She was valuable and she knew it._

_“I didn’t lose control!” She snapped, but the glow of biotics on her skin outed this as a obvious lie, only making her angrier. She swore and threw the side of her fist into a nearby locker, leaving her hand stinging, and a sizable dent in the metal behind. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone? I’m not the only kid with biotics, and you don’t talk to them like this!”_

_“The other kids aren’t like you, Jane,” Hannah said, sympathetically, but it felt like an accusation. “Their biotics aren’t as strong as yours. They’re not—“_

_“—Dangerous. You think I don’t fucking know that?” Anger rose further in her chest, and she stretched her aching fingers. She hoped they weren’t fractured. Her ego couldn’t take a trip to the infirmary._

_Hannah paused. Pondered. “Talented. I was going to say talented.”_

_“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Jane responded. “I know you’re scared of me, you just won’t admit it like everyone else.”_

_“I do not appreciate your tone. I am your superior officer.”_

_“I didn’t hear you deny it. You saw what I did to the cop who tried to arrest me. I could do the same thing to you, just as easy.”_

_To her surprise, Hannah smiled, chuckled a bit, scorning her further. “I’m not afraid of any child. You won’t hurt me.”_

_“Try me.”_

_“Fine.” She cleared her throat. Considered for a moment. “The easy answer is that I’m the only thing standing between you, and life in a high-security prison. We both know they won’t let someone with your biotic capabilities and track record of violence on the streets. But that’s not the real root of it, we both know you’d find a way to survive just about anywhere.” She cleared her throat. Took a sip from her thermos, which Jane knew to be famously filled with hot black coffee. A kid accidentally spilled it once. There wasn’t a punishment, but Hannah’s quiet rage was scarier than anyone wanted to admit. “No. The real reason is that you like me too much to ever harm me, perhaps you even fear me a little. You see me as a parental figure, which complicates our relationship considering your poor relationship with your own mother.”_

_Shepard’s face went hot again, her ears burning, but time for a different reason. “No I don’t.”_

_“So I misheard the argument against you and Marissa, then? You didn’t attack her because she called me a bitch?”_

_“I was gonna fuck her up anyway. Bitch gets on my nerves.”_

_“Right.” Hannah responded, clearly rolling her eyes. “I know this is scary for you, Jane. You’ve spent your whole life using your powers, using fear, to get what you want. But that’s not going to work on me. And you must learn to control your temper.”_

_Jane hardly had a defense for this. She kept her face hard, cold, unreadable, staring Hannah dead in the eyes. But it was true, and she knew it._

_“I’m not afraid of you, and so you can’t control me. That’s terrifying. You can’t be sure when I’ll leave you, or betray you. But know that I won’t, Jane. You don’t have to defend me, or try to frighten me in order to gain my approval. What I need you to do is keep yourself under control. Be a leader to the other kids. Help them.”_

_“Help them? How?”_

_“They’re scared, Jane. For most of them this camp isn’t a step up in the world, it’s a nightmare. Everything they knew was just taken from them. They need a friend. They need a leader. And that’s you. I trust you to be that for them.”_

_Hannah’s face had shifted into, dare she say, a caring expression? The idea that Hannah really did want the best for her, and she’d been embarrassing herself all this time by rebelling against her, filled her with shame. Her eyes were soft, concerned, but it was hardly at the forefront of Jane’s mine. The adrenaline worn off. Her hand began to really sting, but not much more than her pride. The knuckles were quickly turning purple._

_Hannah smiled. Reached out for her good hand. “Come on. Let’s make sure your hand isn’t broken before I make you scrub the latrines.”_

_Things changed after that. She started seeing Hannah when she was angry, learned to walk away, learned her stupid little games to help her calm down and get a grip, keep herself from lashing out. Name the streets you grew up on. Walk through the steps of cleaning a rifle. List all the ships you can remember._ Kilimanjaro. Cape Town. Sahara. Alexandria. Everest— __

_It was all about control. She didn’t have to control other people. She had to control herself._

***

“I’ll kill her,” she repeated, hearing the uncertainty in her voice the first time. To her surprise, Kaiden didn’t really react much. He didn’t freak, or even really look surprised. More confused, than anything. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“How do you know?” 

“You’re not a killer,” Kaiden answered, to which Shepard scoffed. The Alliance, and pretty much anyone she’d ever worked with, would certainly disagree. Kaiden rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re not a cold-blooded killer.” 

“This is different,” she said, half-convincing herself, half him. 

This was her mother they were talking about. The woman who’d brought her into this world had led her to believe she was a monster for her abilities. Destructive over productive. Presumed guilty for the way she was born. Perhaps she was right, who can say what came first, the monster or the girl? 

Before her abilities were discovered, it wasn’t like everything was peachy anyway. Her mother was absent at best, and she’d learned the hard way it was best to just stay out of her way, especially when she was angry drunk. She was just a footnote in her mother’s life, a piece of furniture that she sometimes fed, annoyed that she had to do so. It was easy to leave. She’d always gotten the sense that her mother would have been better off without her anyway. 

She was so happy the day she learned of what she could do. Happy to show off to her classmates that she could make the books float off the shelves, make windows fly open during boring lectures. Never once did it cross her mind that it was anything less than something to be proud of until they called home, and it was all locked doors and whispered voices, trying to figure out what to do with her now. 

But one thing was for certain: Never again would she allow someone to control her with fear the way she had. 

Never again would she cower in fear of herself. Of her gifts. Of her own potential. 

Never again would someone make her feel so small. 

Knowing her mother was probably gone due to her habits had always been a comfort to her. Never again would she freeze, feel the way she felt lying on the floor of their closet, in the dark, unsure of what day it was, how long she’d been out of school, how long it’d been since she’d gotten water. The last person who had the power to make her feel afraid was gone, she had to believe that. 

Until now. 

“Kaiden, I’m sorry. But you don’t understand. You have no idea what she did to me.” 

“No, but I know you. And I know this isn’t like you.” 

“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” 

Kaiden’s eyes narrow. For a moment, he looks angry. No, maybe not angry, but frustrated. “Will you stop with that shit? I know you, Jane, I know you. You’ve never hurt anyone unless they didn’t give you a choice.” 

“You’re wrong,” she couldn’t face him. Couldn’t take the way he looked at her anymore, the way his eyes saw a better person than she was. She’d loved it, once. It made her want to be that woman once, the one he instilled so much trust in. But the truth was she wasn’t that person, and more and more she was certain that she never would be. Pretend, perhaps. But not deep down. Not where it mattered. 

At the end of the day, all it took was a face that looked too much like her own to turn her back into someone who didn’t care who she hurt. 

“I killed someone, Kaiden,” she said, her voice steady, unwavering. It was the truth, and as much as she wanted to leave it in the past, it had sunken his claws into her, always in the back of her mind. “When I was young. Before the Alliance.” 

“I did too, you know that. It’s okay—“ 

“No. It’s not,” she spat “what you did wasn’t your fault. You were pushed, you were defending someone else, and you didn’t mean to. I—I snapped a cop’s neck. He was just doing his job, trying to get my gun away from me. And I killed him.” 

She felt him grow close, but ignored him, forcing herself to focus on calling a shuttle. She didn’t care what she had to pay, she needed out of Vancouver ASAP. Time made room for doubt. For convincing. But this wasn’t a conversation, it was her decision. And what Kaiden felt about it…well, he’d have to understand. 

“You’re not that same person anymore,” his hand felt heavy on her shoulder, weighing her down like an anchor. She refused to look up. Her shuttle could be there in five minutes, take her to Pacific Central station in a half an hour. She could be in Detroit by tomorrow night. “I know you’re not. You’re better than that now.” 

She glanced up at the TV. She was gone now, the news had moved on to a report on repairs to the Citadel, but she swore she could still see her face, like a stain on the glass. “Not while she’s around I’m not,” she told him, slipping out the door and closing it quickly behind her, refusing to look back.


	21. White Picket Fences

The station was full of happy reunions. 

People running across the platform to meet friends, family, lovers, finding themselves in a tearful embrace, belongings scattered across the floor. A robotic voice announced incoming trains, and people waited, checking their watches, pondered where their loved one was, why they were late, as if those few seconds could be the difference between never seeing them again. Perhaps it was. Who knew these days? 

Jane waited in the corner, avoiding the sounds of people taking loudly, sneakers squeaking on linoleum, restaurants serving lunch. She kept her hood up, her hair back, checking the time every few minutes as if she could make it go faster. She had silenced her Omni-tool about the ninth time Kaiden tried to call, and she started to think he might have given up when it rang again. No. Not Kaiden…Garrus? 

The signal was staticky. Obviously unstable. But it was him, she’d know that voice anywhere. 

“Are you serious? What the hell Shepard?” 

“Garrus? What—“ 

“I just find out you’re alive, and the next thing I know you’re on your way to kill your mother in cold blood? What the hell is wrong with you, did that Reaper fry your brain or something?” 

“Garrus— “she rubbed at the spot between her eyes where a headache was already forming. Of all people, she expected Garrus to understand. “Did Kaiden put you up to this?” 

“Maybe. But I’m also pretty pissed that you’re allowed to kill for revenge, but when I do it—”

“This is different.” 

“It’s really not.” 

“Really?” She spat. Across from her, a young woman with dark hair and an Alliance uniform stood, looking around, clearly trying to find someone. She glanced at her omnitool. Frowned. Looked around again. Suddenly an older woman, perhaps in her 50’s, came running toward her with open arms, crying a name Shepard couldn’t make out. They hugged and didn’t let go. The older woman was crying. They looked the same, one of those pairs where it was like looking in a mirror twenty years younger. People used to say the same about her and her birth mother. She turned away from the scene. “I don’t see how.” 

“Maybe the circumstances aren’t the same, but the person calling the shots is. This isn’t you. I know you’re angry, and you’re hurt, but you’re making decisions based on that. I felt the same way when I lost my men. But if you do this, you will never forgive yourself.” 

“You just don’t get it. She…she still has this hold over me.” 

“Dammit, Shepard, you really think I don’t understand? After Sidonus? You were right to stop me back then, you know it. You don’t want her to control you? She already has. She’s turned you into something you’re not. This isn’t you.” 

She turned back to the pair in the train station. The older woman was holding the soldier’s hands, smiling, asking her questions without taking her eyes off her. Sure, Shepard told herself, she had Hannah. But that didn’t replace what’d she’d lost. It didn’t erase years of being unloved, unwanted. It didn’t erase the damage that had been done. 

Fuck. She missed Hannah. She’d know what to do. She always knew what to do. 

“It’s what she deserves,” she tried to justify herself, already knowing she’d lost. Had she ever really wanted to kill her? Would she have the strength to do it, had she gotten on that train? She didn’t want to find out.

“Probably. But it’s not about that. It’s about you. I know she hurt you…I won’t pretend to know the full story. But you’re just letting her hurt you more. If I thought this would make you feel better, hell, I’d be right behind you—we both know need me since I’m the better shot anyway—but we both know it won’t bring you peace.” 

Shepard couldn’t help but smile at this. The pair from earlier was leaving. The older woman did not let go of her child’s hand as they walked off, toward the exit. As they passed, in the light of the windows, she could see a familiar silhouette coming closer, holding a duffle bag. He stopped mid-way, as if to ask which direction they’d be going in, his dark eyes searching hers. 

“Thanks, Garrus. You’re right.” 

“I know I am. We’ll all see you again soon—I promise. Now go home.” 

Kaiden waited as she hung up, still waiting for an answer when Shepard closed the gap between them. He took her into his arms, wrapping himself around her as if it’d been weeks rather than hours since they’d last seen each other. “I can’t believe you snitched on me to Garrus and followed me all the way here.” 

“I knew he’d get through to you.” 

“What’s with the bag?” 

“In case it didn’t work. You think I’d let you go alone?” He shrugged, as if they were talking about a vacation rather than a murder. “You didn’t even pack a toothbrush. Traynor would have an aneurism if she knew.” 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Shepard told him, pressing her face into the soft material of his flannel “I—I just—for once I don’t know what to do. I don’t ever want to feel the way she made me feel again.” 

“I’ll fix this somehow. I promise. I won’t let her hurt you any more than she already has, okay? I won’t let her do this to you.” 

She nodded, her eyes large and wet. Sniffed. Rubbed at her nose. She turned her face, trying to hide her expression. “Thanks, Kaiden. I’m sorry I keep taking these things out on you.” 

“You’re family, like it or not, your problems are my problems. And you don’t always have to be the one looking out for other people. Let me be the one worrying about you for once, okay?” She nodded. Perhaps she would have protested this under normal circumstances, but she looked quite drained. “I’m going to take care of this. Don’t worry.” 

“How?” 

“I’m calling Miranda. And Liara. If any of them know how to help, it’s them.” 

“Kaiden, don’t. This isn’t their business. They’re busy. They don’t need to get involved.” 

“They’re your friends. Let them try. Let them help you.” She said nothing. “Just trust me.” 

“Okay.” She nodded, feeling tired. “Okay. I trust them. I trust you.”

“Great, now let’s get you out of here before anyone figures out who we are. I’m sure attempted murder isn’t how you want to join the world of the living again.” 

“No. Probably not.” He took her hand, leading her back through the station and into the bright sunlight. It warmed her. His eyes were bright as pennies. 

***  
_  
One of her favorite things, in the few moments of downtime between hellfire, was to look up real estate online._

_This would probably come as a shock to pretty much anyone, even her closest friends. She never talked about retirement, or settling down, or leaving the Alliance. It was hard to picture a life outside of ships and fighting, even harder to picture a future without a reapers looming over their heads. In the few short years since Eden Prime, it started to feel like all she knew, and besides, she was running out of luck. She’d cheated death too many times, and the chances that she’d do it again weren’t in her favor. She felt safe in her assumption that she wouldn’t rest until she was dead. She would never own a house with a yard that turned brown in the summer, never have a dog that woke her up in the wee hours of the morning to use the bathroom, never spend evenings looking for the remote under couch cushions, or forget to load the dishwasher, or spend a quiet night at home with Kaiden and a box of takeout. Still, it was nice to pretend. And Kaiden played along._

_“This one’s nice,” she’d say, showing him a modest home somewhere warm, somewhere tropical, somewhere quiet. “We can out a fence in. It’ll be nice for the dog.”_

_That was usually where every conversation lead, and her smile, laugh, shake his head. “Are you looking for a house for you, or a house for the dog you don’t even have?”_

_“Both. He’s part of the family too, you know. Don’t be rude.”_

_“We don’t have a dog, Jane,” Kaiden would roll his eyes._

_“I know. But we will. At least two.”_

_“Two?”_

_“To keep each other company!”_

_“You can’t even keep your fish alive, and I’m surprised your hamster has made it as long as it has.”_

_“Not my fault,” she responded, “I grew up on ships, I’ve never had a pet. But I can take care of a dog. I think.”_

_“Let’s maybe start with a plant. A hear succulents are easy.”_

_“At least one should be a Shepard-mix, or is that too on-the-nose?” She asked, ignoring him and already opening a new tab to animal adoption websites. “Look, this one is missing an eye. That means he’s got street cred.”_

_“Tell you what. When this is over, I’ll get you as many dogs as you want.”_

_She smirked. “I want that in writing. You’ll live to regret that, Alenko.”_

_“I hope I do.”_

_Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t. There would be no her in a few months, and only if she was lucky would there be anyone else left for that matter. She ever expected to survive, never expected to get that dog._

  
*** 

“Home, sweet, home,” Kaiden gestured to the room. 

Shepard smiled. “What is all this?” 

After arriving home that night, Kaiden had asked for her to step out for a few minutes so he could set up a surprise for her. Fine by her. She needed time or decompress. She took her time uniting her boots, and her hair desperately needed combed through, which took her long enough due to the stiffness in her arms. She was barely done when Kaiden knocked gently with two fingers on the bathroom door, gesturing her to follow him to the living room. 

“What is all this?” She smiled, glancing around the space. The room was dark, the curtains drawn, illuminated by a small device on the table. She’d seen them for sale on the Citadel before, souvenirs for traveling parents, the projected the night sky on your ceiling to varying degrees of quality. This one appeared to be solid, she decided, she recognized the stars. The Big Dipper. Cassiopeia. Orion’s Belt. It cast the room in a purplish glow, a bit of a fantastical oversight, she knew space to be quite dark, but otherwise it was accurate. Not quite like the window in her cabin, but more like what she imagined a night in Detroit without the light pollution would have been. It emitted a low hum, something familiar to her, some kind of white noise, but not like that tiny, noisy machine that nurse had lent her. “That’s not—?” 

“It’s is,” he smiled, proudly. “Liara helped me make it. Patched together some background noise from audio files. It’s a recording of the original Normandy. I thought it might help you sleep.”  
She felt something, deep in the back of her throat. Like getting stomped on. Painful, but not in a bad way. It was hard to describe. 

Sometimes Kaiden made these gestures, like the first time he’d uttered I love you, and they made feel completely shut down. Unable to process. Now that everything with her birth mother was being dragged back up, it was hard not to draw comparisons between the one person who was supposed to love her, and the one person who chose to love her. How one wouldn’t lift a finger to help her, and the other would drag the whole night sky indoors just to help her sleep. 

He took her hand and pulled her to the couch, pulling her against his chest, his breathing in synch with hers as they lay in silence and watched the stars go by. His hand traced the shape of her shoulders, down to her hips, gentle, reassuring, wordlessly repeating I’m here, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. 

“Can we watch those old house hunting vids like we used to on the Normandy?” She asked, when sleep still did not find her. 

She felt the smooth exhale of his smile on the back of her neck. “I already have them queued up.”

“I’m sorry I ever accused you of not knowing me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, this is my first fic and y'all give me so much serotonin. Feel free to drop your own fics in the comments for me to give a looksee, like I said I'm new to this but I need my fix of my emotional support space escapism found family so hook me up.


	22. The Offer

He watched the rise and fall of her body, taking a breath of relief for the first time in what felt like forever. 

She must have been exhausted, she didn’t even twitch in her sleep. Her head was against his chest, her mouth slightly open, giving way to her soft breathing in an almost childlike expression. It’s the only time he really sees her face truly relax, without her features set with that look of determination she always wore, whether they were playing poker or taking heavy fire. He felt privileged to know her face was rounder than it looked in pictures, softer. Her eyebrows gave her an almost sad expression when they weren’t knitted together in frustration, and her freckles multiplied the more he looked. They could be infinite, he thought, because he could look forever. 

Never in a million years did he think he’d had Commander Shepard’s head on his chest as she slept, running his fingers though her soft, red hair. As he thought, his fingers found a strand of strawberry blonde. How many of these had he found curled in the fabric of his uniform? If it wasn’t suspicious, he would have never picked them off. He’d have worn them like a badge of honor. 

He remembered the day he was assigned to the Normandy with perfect clarity. He’d been excited, a prototype ship, and under Captain Anderson’s charge nonetheless. He’d called his father, who was less excited. Who could blame him? The First Contact War was a not-so-distant memory for him. He didn’t hate turians per se, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled to entrust his only sons’ life to their engineering. The issue of his COs came up. 

“Shepard?” He father had said. The tiny projection of his face on his omni flickered into a thoughtful frown. “Which one?” 

The Shepard legacy was a long one with the Alliance, that much he knew. All old military families were familiar names, to their benefit or detriment, but the Shepard’s were martyrs. Names on memorials over medals. Death before dishonor. No wonder they picked a Shepard to serve on a turian ship. Sufficient to say, they were a rare and dying breed. “Um…Jane, I think?” 

“Jane?” His father looked perplexed. He shifted at his desk. Seemed to be looking something up. “Huh. Must not be one of the Shepard’s.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

“I worked with some Shepards…last living one is Hannah, I think. Worked with her briefly — was kinda hoping for her. She’s stern, but she gets the job done. Looks after her men. I’m not familiar with a Jane, and Hannah’s a widow. No kids as far as I know. Forget I asked. Good luck, kid. Guess you’re going in blind.” 

Of course, he did his research before he went aboard. His new CO wasn’t exactly a total unknown, no one under Anderson was. Akuze. Poor thing, his mother would say, I can’t imagine living through something like that, and so young too. His father would have shaken his head and sighed. Too many good men. He’d hardly call her a sole survivor, no one comes out of something like that without being a few screws loose. And so he kept his information to himself. 

He wasn’t expecting someone like her. 

His mistake. He was expecting someone tall, bulky, someone more threatening. She was so small. If her presence wasn’t larger than life, he would have felt like she was looking down at her. Her hair was shockingly red, brighter than he’d ever seen, contained in a bun at the back of her head. He wondered if it was a wig, or if she’d dyed it. But it was her eyes that caught him off guard. 

So large, and dark, and clear, they reflected back everything they saw. You measured yourself in her eyes, wondered if you were good enough. And when she stood on the star deck, her hands folded behind her back in the way only someone born-and-bled Alliance would, they reflected the stars in perfect darkness. You could find the constellations in her irises, if you looked hard enough, if you dared to get so close. 

But there was something sad about her, something he was sure only he saw. After only a few days, he watched the way she moved. He watched her glance, almost wistfully, at their games of poker over the mess, where she sat alone and spoke only when spoken to, and even then, using the bare minimum amount of words to get her point across. The way she quietly denied invitations on shore leave until they stopped coming altogether. The way she snapped at the smallest of things, like when Jenkins made a careless mistake on his report and earned an earful at the morning debrief. It bothered him, and the more it bothered him the more he noticed it, and the more he wondered why he was making note of these things as if the Commander had ever bothered to notice him. 

Then that day with Jenkins in the mess. He spilled her coffee. She was furious. Unnaturally so.  
_It’s okay,_ everyone had told him. _She’ll get over it. She can be such a bitch sometimes, you know? She just hates having fun. You know I’ve never even seen her crack a smile? What a stick-in-the-mud. Bet she was such a pain in the ass at basic. Who doesn’t pull some dumb shit at basic?_

And then the conversation shifted to their shenanigans at basic, linking their dog tags though their noses and short-sheeting each other’s bunks, filling boots with Jello and shampoo bottles with hair removal cream. But Kaiden was somewhere else, somewhere lost in thought. He knew why he noticed her mannerisms. 

They were familiar. They were his. 

He was the same way after Brain Camp. After he’d lost control. He’d wasted so much time being angry at himself, at the world, at his parents for letting them take him away. It took too long to realize he couldn’t control anyone but himself, and he’d failed to do so. Now a man was dead. 

So for years there was the knee-jerk reaction, the anger, sorrow following closely behind. He had to hold himself to high expectations, had to be careful, or else history would repeat itself. He’d snap. He’d hurt someone again. He’d never forgive himself. His list of sins would grow too long to bear. 

If it weren’t for the therapist his parents set him up with the moment he returned home, he would have been stuck that way. 

It was easy to recognize someone’s pain when it mirrors your own. His mother always had a gift for seeing when a patient needed more pain killers, or was minimizing what they were feeling to get out of the hospital early. It was like a sixth sense to her, innate. She knew when he’d hurt himself as a child before he’d even open his mouth to cry. He supposed he’d picked up on that skill at some point, he could always seem to tell when others were hurting, on the outside and the inside. And the Commander’s eyes were suffering, especially when she lashed out like a wounded animal. It was too familiar to him. 

He couldn’t stand by while someone else suffered like he had. 

He knew the Commander was the first one up in the morning at least, any other day she was. He woke early to make the first pot of coffee, a job he was sure she usually took on, and waited for the morning alarm to knock on her door. 

She answered, fully dressed to his surprise, her hair already pinned in place. She had a datapad in one hand, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Lieutenant,” she said, coldly, but with an edge to her voice. 

Shit. He didn’t have to remind himself who she was, what she had been though. She carried experience on her shoulders, her story on her face. Her tone alone let you know she wasn’t to be trifled with. “Morning, uh, Commander. I was hoping we could talk?” That must have caught her off guard. There was a flicker of confusion on her face, but she remained neutral. “I brought you your coffee.” She nodded and gestured for him to enter, accepting his peace offering. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she replied diplomatically. Her quarters were small, a step above a shoebox, not really meant for standing room. Just a bed bunked on top of a desk. Enough to give discretion to more sensitive reports. She motioned for him to sit at the desk, while she stood against the wall. The assertive gesture didn’t go unnoticed. 

“How do you like it?” He asked, dumping the sugar and cream packets he’d jammed between his fingers onto her desk. It was neat and orderly, not a hair out of place. She seemed to wince at the mess. 

“I can do it,” she said shortly, grabbing her cup. He watched her pour two sugars. No cream. “What?” She asked shortly, noticing he was studying her. 

“Nothing. My mother just used to say you could tell a lot about a person by how they take their coffee.” 

“Oh?”

He could see the curiosity on her face. She wouldn’t ask, he was sure, but she wanted to know what it said about her. Everyone did. It was more of a conversation starter and less of an actual test. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t remember what she’d say exactly but…I’ll keep it up here and ask her sometime,” he tapped his forehead. She glanced away. Did she just roll her eyes? At least it was some kind of expression other than anger. Maybe she wasn’t an android programmed by the Turians to spy on them after all, like Joker had suggested once. 

“I wanted to talk to you about my behavior yesterday, ma’am,” he began. She sipped at her drink. It was boiling hot, but she didn’t seem to care. Maybe she was an android after all. She studied him over the brim of her cup with suspicious eyes. “It wasn’t Jenkin’s fault, it was mine. I’m his senior officer, I should know better. It’s his first tour. He’s just nineteen. Don’t you remember what it was like to be nineteen, goofing around with your team?” 

She paused. Sipped her coffee. “I’ve always taken my job seriously,” she deadpanned without breaking eye contact. He couldn’t tell if she was bluffing or not. “Screwing around is how accidents happen. Accidents are how people get killed.” _I would know. I survived Akuze._ She didn’t say it, but he could read between the lines well enough. 

“I understand, ma’am.” 

“Biotics aren't something to be toyed with. They can be deadly. Even when you don’t intend them to be. I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that during training.” 

“Unfortunately, I learned that the hard way, ma’am,” he answered “I’m certain you looked at my records before I boarded, sealed or not. I’m well aware of what happens when you lose control.” 

Her eyes narrowed, and perhaps he imagined it, but for a moment he thought her face went a bit red. She was calculating, obviously, what to say in response. “Your situation was different. You were harmed. You have a right to defend yourself.” 

“I understand. But biotics aren't inherently destructive, despite what they may have taught you. It's part of who we are, and no matter what other people may think, we aren't inherently dangerous people." 

Her refusal to look him in the eye was noted. So they'd gotten to her, then, he thought. All that crap about being inherently destructive. She continued to stare at the ground as she spoke. “I am trying to prevent careless mistakes. Trying not to lose anyone _else_ to my own stupidity.” That word, _else_ , rang loud and clear. Kaiden swore he could hear his own heart beating. Even she didn’t seem to realize the word had slipped from her tongue at first, because she paused for a moment, unfazed, before her eyes widened. An expression of sorrow, quickly erased, back to stern and professional. “What happened to you was not your fault, Lieutenant. The Commander should not have pushed you. The outcome was unavoidable. Not like when I—“ 

She stopped herself, suddenly, as if the wind had been knocked out of her. The silence that followed was long and loud, awkward. She cleared her throat, clearly not intending to finish her sentence. 

“Commander?” He promoted, hoping she would finish. 

“Thank you for the company,” she placed her cup on the desk, empty. Kaiden’s hadn’t even cooled down enough to really drink. “I will…consider what you told me. I know the crew considers me a killjoy, but I am simply trying to minimize casualties. I will attempt to be more…sympathetic, to the crew’s point of view.” 

“Commander?” He could feel that he was being ushered out, pushed away. The gates were closing up again, and she was becoming more and more elusive, more careful in her wordings, as to not betray her true feelings. 

She led him out the door. No. One last feeble attempt to connect. “You’re a Shepard,” Kaiden remarked “My dad mentioned your family. Any relation to a Captain Hannah Shepard?” 

She walked with him down the hallway, her nose in her omnitool again, her facial expressions neutral as she spoke. “My mother.” 

“Really? My dad said he didn’t think she had any kids.” 

“She didn’t. She adopted me. When I was a teenager.” 

Explained a lot, he thought, although if his father was to be believed you’d never have guessed her mannerisms were a result of spending only a few years together. 

They passed Anderson on the way to the elevator, and she parted from him without saying a word. End of conversation. Walls fully built. Construction complete. Mission failed. 

Or so he thought. 

They didn’t speak for a few days after that; however, he noticed the way her eyes would linger on his whenever they were near each other. They never used to do that before, it was as if none of them existed to her, like they were just part of the ship. She didn’t sit next to him at the mess, but she sat near him, seemed to listen when he spoke. 

And then she had said yes that day they went on shore leave. 

How far they had come, he thought, from those days. She was snoring, softly, like a cat’s purr. He couldn’t imagine telling her back then that she snores, or that it was, dare he say, kind of cute. But he had been right, he knew now, about the pain behind her eyes. Now more than ever, with her admission of guilt before she’d left for the train station, he knew that their lives were far more similar than they seemed. They were meant to find each other, he knew, but more than that. They were meant to stay together too. 

He watched as her wrist glowed, an incoming message on her omnitool, and quickly silenced it, afraid it would wake her. Then it went off again. And again. He wondered what on earth could be so important until he managed to catch a glance at the caller. 

Hannah. 

*************************************

She woke to the smell of bacon. Daylight though the blinds. Cold space beside her. 

Kaiden. 

She jolted upwards. The TV was on, replaying an episode of House Keepers they’d watched last night, the one with that stupid couple who wanted a four-bedroom and somehow a particular endangered species of hawk nesting on the property. They were avid bird watchers, they explained. Idiots, Shepard had thought, they settled on a house with a red-tailed hawk nest and one less bathroom than they wanted, but that was hardly her top priority now. Where was—

A hand on her shoulder and a presence behind the couch answered the question. Warmth. His breath on her neck. His hands on her cheek, turning her face so he could kiss her, deeply, warmly. She didn’t expect it. Found herself reaching for him, clutching the soft material of his t-shirt, pulling him closer, so that he could not leave her again. 

“Good morning,” he said, smoothly, when they’d both come up for air. He pressed her forehead to hers, still holding him tightly. He shaved, she noticed, showered, his hair was still wet and he smelled like that homemade oatmeal soap Joy had left them. Somehow yesterday’s problems seemed distant, hazy, unimportant. Maybe she really did just need a good night’s sleep. Her head felt clearer than it had in a very long time. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Good,” she breathed, and she meant it. Her body felt stiff from sleep, but warm, rested, and a haziness she’d forgotten was there had lifted. “Really good, actually.” 

“You must be starving,” Kaiden told her, finally pulling away. His shirt slipped from between her fingers, and she watched him make his way to the kitchen. She could hear the pop of something frying. Smelled coffee. “You slept for what? Almost fourteen hours, you know? 

“What?” 

“I made you breakfast. Well, lunch at this point. I thought it’d be nice to sit out on the porch together.”

She wanted to ask about her mother. About his plan. About what was going to happen, if it had been resolved already, everything. But the sun outside was warm, and Kaiden had obviously worked hard to create this small pocket of paradise for them. He’d laid out everything she liked; eggs, biscuits, bacon, and orange juice. Fuck, she missed orange juice. It was the one thing she couldn’t stand about space, the way it came powdered and fake and tasted like pure battery acid, lumpy, never dissolving right unless the water was warm, and who drank warm orange juice? He pulled one of the wickers chairs out for her, gesturing for her to sit, which she did with a smile. She felt lucky, for the first time, for reasons not related to the fact that she wasn’t dead. Luck wasn’t just about survival. It was moments like this, the fact that he was still by her side despite everything they’d both been through, despite circumstance trying it’s best to tear them apart. 

As he crossed the table, he kept one hand on her, running his fingers across her shoulders until he reached her other hand, so that they never parted. His eyes didn’t leave hers either, and he had such an odd look on his face, a pleasant one, but one she didn’t quite get. 

She smiled, laughed, a bit nervously. “What?” She asked, helping herself to one of the biscuits. Fuck, real butter too. Even on earth it was expensive, she was used to that artificial shit that tasted oily and left a coating on your tongue. 

“Huh?” 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She laughed nervously again. Perhaps they were both old soldiers, wizened by experience, marred by tragedy. But it was moments like this that made her feel young again, like one of those pretty women from the vids she’d see advertised on the citadel. Was this what life was really about? That’s what everyone always said, and she was beginning to believe it. 

“I’m just…I’m happy you’re here,” he told her. He had this almost comical grin on his face. He held her hand balanced between his thumb and pointer finger, rubbing soothing circles around her knuckles. Her hands felt different. Soft, un-callused. But unmistakably hers. “Are you happy?” 

There was just a moment of hesitation, just one. She’d never have put money on her coming out of the other side of the war alive. Things were difficult at times. How do you plan a life you didn’t expect to have? And even if she did make plans, it hardly involved rest and relaxation. The Alliance was all she knew. How could she begin to picture anything else, when she knew nothing else? To be fair, Hannah’s family had been the same way. Her grandmother was hardly mentioned, but she knew her grandfather died old, in battle, longer after his retirement date. That was the Shepard way, as she had been taught. Come into the world screaming and covered in blood, leave the same way. Maybe that’s why the Krogan found it easier to respect her than they did most humans. Hannah had followed the Shepard philosophy closely, waking up at the crack of artificial dawn and living off MRE’s for the better part of 40 years. It was hard to picture her knitting in a rocking chair somewhere, wearing anything but a perfectly pressed uniform. 

It was uncharted territory, and that came with hazards. But this was everything she didn’t dare to hope for, she reminded herself, and on the other side of sleep it was getting easier to see it clearly. She smiled. Kaiden’s eyes were warm, soft, and his hand warmed her finger tips against the cool spring air. “I am. I know sometimes it doesn’t seem like it, but I really am.” 

“You’re happy that you’re here? With me?” 

“I’d be happy just about anywhere as long as I’m with you. You didn’t figure that out when I dragged you to Tuchanka and back?” She smiled, a bit nervously, sipped at her orange juice. “What’s this all about? You’re being really weird.” 

That seemed to catch his off guard, but he didn’t seem to mind. He lifted her hand to his newly-smoothed face, seeping the last of her chilled fingertips into his warmth. Just like that last date at Apollo’s. She had a soft spot for that gesture of his. Like he knew how hard it could be for her to reach across the gap between them, and instead of letting her flail he would reach out, guide her back to him. Maybe it wasn’t that deep. But she liked to imagine it was. 

“I’m just glad you’re here. That we both made it back in once piece. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she told him, a tone of confusion in her voice, and it was true. A far cry from the days when the words were stuck behind the jail bars of her teeth, or tangled in too much red tape. Maybe those barriers still existed. She just stopped giving a damn. 

“Do you…would you want to marry me? For real this time.” 

The question caught her in the middle of a drink, which she quickly spit back into her glass with a cough and a nervous laugh. If Kaiden’s confidence wavered at this, he didn’t show it. Those eyes, those hopeful eyes, stayed firmly on her. “Do I want to?” She grinned, which was not an expression very familiar to her face. It made her cheeks burn. “Yeah, I want to, but—“ 

Kaiden’s face fell for a moment. It punched her in the gut, no, it eviscerated her. 

“Kaiden, there’s still rules. You know that.” 

“You think anyone cares at this point? Besides, if they do, then I leave the Alliance. Simple as that.” 

“Kaiden, our work is important to you.” 

“You’re more important.” 

It was like those stupid home catalog sites all over again. Of course, she wanted it, of course it was fun to pretend, but it wasn’t a realty for her…was it? “No offense, but I don’t want to plan that shit. I’ve had enough of being the center of attention for a lifetime.” 

“So, we just do a courthouse wedding. No fuss.” 

“And you think your mom is going to be fine with that? Her only son? Getting a drive-by marriage certificate?” 

He shrugged. Leaned back on his chair with an air of confidence about him. It was something he lacked when they were both younger, in those days when Saren was the biggest problem they faced. But it suited him. It made a pleasant chill run down her spine. “She’ll be fine. It’s not about her, it’s about us. It’s about you.” 

Was it really that simple? Was the kind of life that most people imagined for themselves as children, the ones vids and books and advertisements promised, the one that seemed like a ridiculous, impossible dream, not only feasible, but in her grasp? 

These moments sometimes seemed too good to be true. Like she was living in a dream, and any moment the drip would stop, and either she’d wake up or fade away into nothing.  
No, this was real. She had to believe this was real. 

That suffering had meaning. 

That she deserved a happy ending. 

“Then yeah. Yeah, let’s do it,” she grinned, and Kaiden’s face lit up, crinkling into itself in an express of pure joy. The way he reached for her hand again was electric, as if they were one creature, one mind. Of course, he felt the same way; it was all worth it. Everything they’d been though. It was all for this. 

Later that evening, as they sat on the couch, his fingers in her hair, swirling a curl around his thumb, she couldn’t help but look up at him and smile, re-imagining the scene from that morning. Her in her slept-in hoodie, her hair in tangles, her teeth unbrushed. The smell of his skin, soft and vaguely earthy, pine she guessed, but she wasn’t familiar with earth flora to really know. The way the words left his mouth like honey, like this was any other conversation. Perhaps someone else would have been offended by the simplicity, but Shepard had had enough excitement to last a lifetime. Two, in her case. There was no need to fuss. It just made sense, the two of them. 

“Hannah’s going to freak, you know?” Shepard said eventually. On the TV, another dumb couple was looking to move out to a colony planet in the Hades Gamma. They had strict standards for the school district their kids would be in. Had no one told them that the planet had barely even been settled yet? God, she hoped love never made them that stupid.

“She didn’t.” 

“What do you mean she didn’t’?” Kaiden grinned, reveling for a moment in her utter confusion. “Kaiden! What do you mean she didn’t?” 

“We talked this morning.” He stretched and yawned, making a show of how much of a no-big-deal it was, as if Shepard wasn’t going full nuclear. 

“Since when do you and my mom have Sunday morning chats?” 

“Actually, she called you. About twelve times. I told her you really needed to rest, and she said she’d give you a call back when she found a signal again.” 

“And—?” 

“And we chatted,” he shrugged, grinning. 

“You are so aggravating!” She exclaimed “how on earth did you get my mom on board with you marrying me?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked in an overly-exaggerated tone of disbelief “Hannah loves me!” Shepard raised an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed. Their eyes engaged in a battle of will. Finally, Kaiden conceded. “Fine. We’ve reached an understanding between us.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. We have a lot more in common than we thought.” He pulled her close, planting kisses on her neck until she laughed, squirming under his grip. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years. “We both love you more than anything in this life.” 

She smiled. Kissed him again. Wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself on top of him. Biotics always ran hot, her mother said, always an excess of body heat. But Kaiden was like an inferno compared to her, balancing out her cold fingertips. She missed that, more than words could express. What was the phrase her mother had always used when she talked about Anne? _Someone to come home to._ Kaiden wasn’t someone to come home to. He was home. 

“Wait,” she interrupted herself, pulling away from his touch. “Why was my mom calling this morning?” 

He frowned. That little depression between his eyes was back, along with that little dark rain cloud of his over his head. “She’s safe, don’t worry.” 

“I wasn’t worried, but now I am.” 

“She was asking if you were okay. She…she saw the news.” 

Oh. 

_Oh._

“What’d you tell her?” It had been almost easy for forget, for a moment, that her birth mother existed. That she was still a force to be reckoned with. That the past was sharpening it’s claws.  
“I told her I was handling it.” 

“And are you?” Her eyes searched his expression, looking for any tell-tale sign of progress. He didn’t give. That’s why Joker always lost to him in poker. 

“You really want to talk about this now?” He asked, and she nodded, shifting her body to better give him her full attention. He sighed. That warm bubble, that wall they’d built on their side of paradise, was growing thin and weak. “Miranda’s taking care of it. And…Jack.” 

“Jack? Miranda? What, like, together?” He nodded; Shepard’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never been on a ship with them, how could he possibly know the implications of what he’d done? “No-no-no. Kaiden, I know you’re trying to fix things, but I don’t think you realize what you just did. You just turned this into a double murder-suicide.” He smiled and shook his head. “I’m serious, you just tripled the casualties.” 

Kaiden shrugged, oblivious to the situation he’d just created. He was never the one standing between two powerful biotics with something to prove, seconds from spattering the other one on the wall. “I knew Miranda would be a good fit…but she actually reached out to Jack herself. And Jack wanted to help. Said she had some kind of personal stake in the situation. I didn’t ask a lot of questions, figured you’d have an idea of what that meant.” 

It took her a moment to put the pieces together, but she supposed it made sense. 

But more than ever, she was no longer the convinced this was the least violent option.


	23. No News is Good News

The hours that ticked by were some of the longest of Shepard’s life. 

She was no stranger to action, but waiting…that was what bothered her. She’d held her own under fire for hours on end, days, even, bouncing from one war zone to the next, surviving only on adrenaline and caffeine, if time allowed. Spent more than a few nights with a sniper rifle on her shoulder, the sound of gunfire keeping her awake. But it’s the waiting that gets under her skin. The silence. The calm before the storm. 

She could tell Kaiden was waiting for an update just as much as she was Her nerves jumped every time he checked his omnitool, only for him to smile and tell her look, Tali sent them a picture from Rannoch, or that the Citadel reconstruction project was making astounding progress. Every time her omnitool would light up, it was a shot of adrenaline. _Ping._ Official human death toll increases to approximately 97 million galaxy-wide as body retrieval efforts slow to a halt. _Ping._ Rumored Remains of Commander Jane Shepard Located: Genetic Testing to Come. _Ping._ New School for Biotic Children to Open in Vancouver. _Ping._ New Hope for Patients Suffering from Reaper-Induced Psychosis. 

Joy came for her the next morning. 

They were sitting on the porch, enjoying breakfast, their morning ritual, when they saw Joy drive up in one of the carts, dressed in her scrubs, her hair tied in the signature bun she always wore to work. She held a bright red bag in one hand and ascended the stairs, a smile on her face. Kaiden rose to greet her, but she ignored him for the most part. Her eyes were on Shepard. 

“Hi, honey,” she said to her son without really looking at him. Her scrubs were pink that day, and she looked tired. Kaiden had told her she’d been working double shifts at the hospital since before the war had ended, and the toll was obvious. She could ping exhaustion and burn-out from a hundred yards, just in the way she held her shoulders. Had she retired before the war and returned to work, like so many had, or was she too afflicted with the incurable disease of just not knowing when to stop? “I’m actually here to talk to Jane, it’s her one-week follow up. Do you mind?” She gestured toward the front door, and Kaiden gave his mother an odd look. “Just us girls, Kaiden,” she smiled at Jane, and Kaiden nodded, understanding. He kissed her before he went inside, just on the forehead, holding her face on his hands for a moment as she smiled up at him. Joy glowed at the gesture; her eyes soft as her son left. Did she know about the engagement yet? 

“Hi, dear,” Joy said, making a motion to take Kaiden’s seat as soon as he’d left. “I’m sorry, I promise I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to check in before I left for work.” As she spoke, she worked quickly, like a mouse. Her fingers on her wrist, checking her pulse, her breathing, looking into her eyes. She moved with the efficiency of a Alliance doctor, rushing you back into the action, truly ready or not, it hadn’t mattered those past few months, they couldn’t really afford to keep people on the sidelines. “How are you feeling? Can you believe it’s been ten days since you’ve been out?” 

Had it been? She’d lost count. Somehow it felt like a lifetime and a few hours, all at once. “I’m okay. A bit stiff.” 

“I can believe it. If I’m being honest, I’m floored that you’re even up and walking at all,” she took a few objects from her little red bag, but mostly fiddled with her omnitool. Seemed to be taking notes. “What hurts?” 

“My left knee,” Shepard admitted. “I just—I can’t bend it all the way up. Not even that it hurts too much. I just can’t. And my arms—I can barely lift them above my head on a good day.” 

“And on a bad day?” 

“I can barely manage to put my hair up without feeling like I’ve pulled something.” 

“Hmm,” Joy’s eyes moved up and down with the motion of reading. “Not surprising. You had some significant nerve and muscle damage. We can try to get you in physical therapy, but if I’m being honest it’ll be months until they can get you in, even if I call in a few favors. I’ll send you some stretches to try when I get off work.” She scanned lower on her report, her lips pursed, until she finally looked up at Shepard, a confused look on her face. “I see they took your biotics offline while you were in London. Not surprising considering your head injury. Any headaches? Blurry vision? Nausea? Memory gaps?” 

“Occasional headaches, nothing I can’t manage. Kaiden has more than enough tricks up his sleeve.” 

Nodded, making a note. “Have you tried using your biotics since?”

Jane hoped her face didn’t betray her thoughts. Did Joy know about her almost cracking her sons’ ribs? Her face burned with shame at the thought of it. There was a reason other than lack of need that she hadn’t tried using them again—it was hard to trust herself. She thought she’d moved past losing control like that, but evidently not. Perhaps they should have left them offline, as helpless and terrible as it would have made her feel. At least there was no chance of hurting anyone. 

“Enough to know they’re functional,” she forced her hands out of the white-knocked fists she’d made, hoping Joy was too preoccupied with her notes to notice. 

“I don’t see a record on who installed your implant. That’s a bit odd. You have an L3 I assume?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“May I?” She knew that look. Jane nodded, pulling her hair to one shoulder so Joy could access the scar that ran behind her left ear and down her neck. Her fingers were warm as they palpitated the area, and Jane heard the familiar tones of the software Chakwas always used to run analytics on their amps. But unlike Chakwas, Joy ran her fingers along the scar. Oh, Jane thought, here we go. 

“This incision is very non-standard,” Joy commented. Jane could practically hear her frown. “Who performed your installation?”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know. Some guy named Lenny the first time, but I’m sure Cerberus messed with it while I was out of commission.” Joy stepped from behind her to face her now, giving her that inquisitive look that she was more than used to now. Jane sighed. Here comes the lecture. “It wasn’t exactly…Alliance regulated, if you catch my drift.” 

Joy frowned. “You had some random vagrant perform surgery? On your brain?” Jane shrugged. “You really are a medical marvel, Jane. You should be dead ten times over. Your nervous system should be fried.” 

“If I had a credit for every time someone said that…”, Jane remarked, letting her hair fall back over her shoulder. It wasn’t lost on her how hard she apparently was to kill. Like a damn cockroach, Anderson had said once. But that’s why she had job security. 

Joy frowned, still glancing down at her omnitool. “It says here that according to your metabolic scans, you’re averaging at about two hours a sleep per night. Is accurate?” Her eyes were large, soft. Shepard knew better than to lie to doctors, Alliance or not. 

“I just…it’s hard to get my mind to rest,” Jane admitted. “I slept thought the night yesterday, you can ask Kaiden,” she mentioned, defensively, as Joy shook her head. 

Joy gave her a small approving smile, but didn’t seem convinced. “What’s going on? Talk to me, Jane.” She frowned. “It’s not about Kaiden, is it?”

“What? No. Of course not.” She bit her lip. Where to even begin? “Things as just…complicated. Right now.” 

Joy nodded, gave her a knowing glance. “Your mother?”

That was just the tip of the iceberg, she supposed, but it was at least somewhere to start. “Kaiden told you about that, huh?” 

“Not much. I watch the news, and I knew enough about you to put the pieces together myself,” Joy sat on the wicker chair next to her, placing both her hands over hers. Sometimes her gestures reminded her so much of Kaiden, and it gave her such a surge of affection for Joy. What it must have been like, to see gestures in one’s parents that you wanted to emulate. “I’m sorry Jane, I don’t want you to feel like I am patronizing you. I don’t know the details, but I’m sorry all this is happening to you. No one deserves crummy parents, but you—you of all people deserve better.” 

“It’s okay,” she managed a smile that didn’t match her eyes. It really wasn’t, but she told herself she had to trust Kaiden would fix it, somehow. She had to have faith in him, if nothing and no one else.

Joy have her a wide-eyed look. Patted her hands. “You know you can talk to me about anything.” 

“I know. Thanks, Joy.”

“I know you have Hannah, and I’m sure she’s wonderful. I don’t want to overstep that, but…I hope you know I already see you as one of my own,” she continued. Jane found it hard to look at her then, at her eyes, the love behind them. She wasn’t sure why, it just made her squirm, more than any death glare ever could. “I wanted a daughter more than anything in the world.”

“What stopped you?” 

“I just…it didn’t work out. Military life and family aren’t usually compatible. I was lucky enough to have Kaiden, even if the Alliance ended up snatching him from me too.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice. About the family thing,” she agreed. Hannah always said the same thing, her jaw usually squared, a vein popping out of her forehead. Her voice was steady, but the way she touched her wedding band told a different story.

“Have you and Kaiden talked? About life will look like for you two?” Shepard gave her an inquisitive look, and Joy frowned. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.” 

“It’s okay. I just don’t think I know what you mean.” 

“Just wanted to know if you’ve talked about the future. Settling down, where you’d like to live, starting a family. Just wondering what was in the cards for you,” she shrugged. “If I’m overstepping, just say so. Mostly I just want to know how much longer we get to keep you.” 

She knew Joy meant well, she liked her, she really did, and maybe this wasn’t an odd conversation for a normal person. But the truth was, she wasn’t normal, neither of them were, and it was hard to picture herself in the kind of life Joy was asking about. And even thinking about kids…really rubbed her the wrong way. She doubted it was something she was capable of, no matter how you spin it. It was hard enough adjusting to life outside violence, let alone trying to guide someone else to do the same. And it wasn’t like she had a good road map to begin with. She loved Hannah, she really did…but she’d missed those formative years, and the lines between commanding officer and mother figure were too blurred to possibly be healthy. There was a reason the Alliance had rules about family serving together. And as evidenced by Kaiden, it was not normal to salute your parent as a greeting after all. 

“I’m not sure,” Shepard tried to reply casually “we’ll have to see what they decide when we report in.” 

Joy’s eyebrows knitted together, and she seemed to retract a bit, as if she’d been shocked. “When you…report in?” 

“Yeah, to the Alliance?” Joy’s expression didn’t change, and a feeling of dread shot through her body, a premonition that something wasn’t quite right. “What’s the matter?” 

“Have you…mentioned this to Kaiden? Going back to the Alliance?” 

“No, but what else would we do? It’s…kind of our whole lives,” she felt ridiculous, explaining this to Joy. Hannah would have understood the need to complete one’s duty, to give everything you had to the cause. She was still needed, she was sure of it, the world was in more chaos than ever. 

“Jane…honey,” she hesitated, pursed her lips, unsure of her own wording, even more unsure of what to do with her hands. She decided on folding them on her lap. “You can’t go back.” 

Shepard laughed, nervously, but still she laughed. Shook her head. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you can’t. Physically, they will not take you back,” Joy’s face shifted, her tone assertive. “To be honest, you’ve got a list of TBI’s that makes me wonder how you’re not drooling all over yourself. You probably will never run above a jog again, and your nerve damage isn’t going to get much better. Like I said, it’s morning short of a miracle you’re walking,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You can’t serve. Dr. Chakwas even put it in her notes to consider yourself discharged.” 

Panic set it, and she felt her body grow hot, shaky. “But—But they need me.” She swallowed. “They need me,” she repeated, trying to convince herself. 

Joy shook her head. Looked at her, sympathetically, even reached out to touch her shoulder, but Jane dodged her touch. “You’ve given more than your fair share, Jane. It’s okay to let go.”  
No, no, it wasn’t okay. Who was she if she wasn’t a solider? Who was she if she wasn’t the person people called to solve problems, if not the sole survivor of Akuze, the hero of the Citadel, the first Human Spectre, the Savior of the Galaxy? Who was she outside her armor, outside of taking orders, outside of the war room? Life didn’t exist outside those things, at least not for people like her. It was a future with the Alliance, or no future at all. So what? She took another beating for the Alliance, and now they were abandoning her all over again? What was she—

“Jane,” Joy pulled her out of her own head again. She looked more worried than ever, picking at the skin around her nails. “I’m sorry…I thought you knew. I can get Kaiden—“ 

“Did he know?” Jane grabbed her wrist before she could rise to her feel, pulling her close. “Did he…know what I wasn’t going back?” 

Joy’s expression was pained, conflicted. “I didn’t say anything, no,” she answered, “but…I’m sure he could put the pieces together.”

Putting the pieces together. That phrase again. Why did it seem like everyone could put things together but her? Was it really that obvious, how broken she was? Did no one have the heart to tell her? Or did they just assume she knew, that she couldn’t possibly be that stupid? 

“I’m so sorry, Jane. I didn’t think— “she just kept shaking her head, trying to move away from her, but her fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “I’ll get Kaiden. He can—“ 

“No,” finally, she let Joy go. Closed her eyes. Pressed her fingers to the space between them. “No its okay. I’ll be okay,” she lied “I just…I’m shocked, that’s all.” Understatement of the century. What was she supposed to do now? Her past, her present, her future, was all tied into being a solider. What else was there? When you were raised and built for war, peace was never an option. What else was she but a tool, a means to an end, a weapon? And what’s a gun if you can’t fire it? “Please,” she took a deep breath, tried to calm herself. “I’ll talk to him about it later. I just…need to process. He’s worried about me enough as it is. I’m okay, really, I’m okay.” Was she convincing Joy, or herself? She wasn’t sure. 

Joy seemed unconvinced, but what else was she going to do? She picked up her bag, made one last note in her omni. “You’re family, Jane,” she told her before she left. “Anything you need…please. There’s no shame in it if you need to talk to someone—“

“I will,” she swallowed, holding herself together until Joy was out of earshot, her throat burning with the strain of it all. 

When she was finally alone, she pulled her knees to her chest and cried. 

*********************

“Hey,” Kaiden rapped his knuckles on the doorway, his face illuminated by the orange glow of his omnitool. 

She’d feigned a headache when she went back inside, searching for an excuse for darkness and solitude, time for the redness in her eyes to fade away. In truth, she needed time to think, but the words no longer came to her. She felt empty, unfeeling, lost. Hours or minutes could have passed, staring at the wall, her head empty of anything significant. If she had to guess, she’d lean more toward hours. The sunlight between the blinds had turned golden red. 

Her eyes were closed, but she felt his weight on the edge of the bed. His fingers traced the space between her shoulders, reaching up her back to come to a halt at her neck. He reached out to touch her hair, press it behind her ear, and she dared to open her eyes.  
“Just wanted to let you know I filed for our marriage certificate this morning.” He smiled, but shared that same sad look in his eyes as Joy had. It was obvious, even in the dark, that this wasn’t why he’d come to her. 

“You woke me up just to tell me that?” She raised herself up onto her elbows, resting her head in her hand. He sighed. 

“I know you weren’t asleep,” he replied. They both knew each other too well for such front to work. Sometimes she wished they didn’t. That they could tell each other comforting lies, and actually believe them. 

“Miranda got back to be last night. Your mother shouldn’t bother you anymore.” 

Every inch of her skin began to prick with anxiety, and she forced herself to sit up, crossing her arms over herself. Surely it wasn’t as simple as that? Things rarely were. “That’s…it?” 

Kaiden’s jaw tightened. Of course, it wasn’t. “She sent me something, an audio file.” Jane started at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “I know it might upset you. You don’t have to listen to it now, or ever if you want. We can delete it.” 

Her face felt hot. “Did you listen to it?” 

He gave her an apologetic look, and she knew the answer. “Just the beginning. I didn’t mean to.” 

“That bad, huh?” She sighed. Rolled her shoulders. It would be easy to just move on, to let it be, to forget that any of this happened. What benefit did hearing her mother’s voice have? None that she could think of, but somehow, not knowing was worse. “Lay it on me.” 

She watched Kaiden pull it up on his datapad, that same look on his face. Her heart felt surprisingly still, like it did before battle. The calm before the storm. “I can leave, if you want,” he offered. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say the word.” 

She shook her head. No point in secrets, she thought. Might as well let it all out, before the weight of her past crushed her. “No. Stay…please.” She reached for him, and he pulled her close. Held her. Despite the circumstances, she relaxed in his arms. Melted. Like they were about to sit down and watch another episode of _House Keepers._

_The volume startled her for a moment, she jumped. The sound of something crashing. A door perhaps. Jack’s doing, she was sure. More her style than Miranda’s._

_A scream. The sound of running. A door slamming. Then a voice. Deeper than she remembered, but still familiar. It sent a chill down her spine. “Who are you?” She screamed “what do you want?”_

_Heels on tile. Miranda. Even in a war zone, she still liked the affect they gave her, the terror that click drawing near lended her. She used to say it made her feel confident, that she was so sure of her own strength that she didn’t need to rely on the element of surprise. Her version of a warning shot._

_A crash. The sound of a human body hitting the ground. Miranda’s voice. “Jack, no. Remember what Kaiden said.”_

_“You are one lucky bitch,” Jack’s voice, dripping with venom._

_“Please, what do you want? I don’t have any money. I can’t pay back—“_

_“You think this is about money?” Miranda again, her voice icy and calculated. The opposite of Jack’s fiery tone. Both terrifying in their own different ways. “No. We’re here as a favor. To a friend you’ve wronged.” That click again. Jane could imagine her glowing close, close enough that her mother would be able to smell her perfume. Geraniums, always geraniums. Smell is the sense closest linked to memory. Make sure they remember you. Innocence turned violent. Femininity weaponized; that was her brand. Disarm them with your beauty, your smile, the softness of your skin, before going in for the kill._

_“April 19th, 2167, that date ring a bell for you?”_

_Shepard waited, her breath held. It certainly did for her._

_“N-no,” she stuttered. “No. It doesn’t.”_

_“You better remember. Because your life depends on it,” Jack snarled, distantly.  
“Think. 2167. What happened in 2167?” _

_“I-I don’t know!”_

_“Then you’re a lot fucking dumber than you look—“_

_“How do you not remember selling your own child?” Miranda interrupted, her voice steady, cold. Accusatory would be an understatement. Not a judge. Not a jury. An executioner. “You tried handing her off to slavers. If she hadn’t defended herself—“_

_“Please, stop—“_

_“They could have done anything to her. Did you even care where she went? What they wanted her for?”_

_There was a long pause. Shepard felt something hot rise in her throat. She focused on the screen, not allowing her eyes to meet Kaiden’s._

_“We were poor,” she croaked. “He was willing to pay. A lot. Said she had potential…as a biotic. Why would he pay so much if he was going to hurt her?”_

_“You think someone trying to buy a child isn’t above violence?”_

_“She could take care of herself. He didn’t even get the chance to touch her. She broke his arm,” her mother argued weakly. The pause before she repeated herself, softly, was deafening. “She could take care of herself.”_

_“She shouldn’t have had to. She was eleven.”_

_“What was I supposed to do? She was dangerous. It was only a matter of time before she killed me.”_

_“So what? The response was the sell your fucking kid, and for what? A few thousand credits worth of red sand?” Jack’s voice rang. “You sold her to Cerberus. She would have been tortured. Experimented on. She would have died before she got the chance to save you and every other fuck on this planet who didn’t deserve her.”_

_“So why bother coming here?” Her mother spat back “Clearly you know everything. What’s the point? She’s dead. My child is dead.” Was her mind tricking her, or did she sound sad? Remorseful, even? Did she even dare think, or hope, that her mother cared, even a little? It complicated things, but perhaps not in a bad way._

_Perhaps she was not so unlovable after all._

_“She’s alive. And she wants you to keep her name out of your mouth,” Miranda said, not even pausing to consider the streak of sorrow in her mother’s voice. “You have no right to talk about her, ever.”_

_“Jane’s alive?” Her voice cracked. Did she care? Or was it merely surprise? No, she couldn’t have. She never tried to find her again. Not after Akuze. Not after the Normandy went down. She cared about what she could gain, that was all, she cared that her ruse was over._

_“And if she hadn’t asked me not to kill you, your nervous system would have been torn to shreds the moment you answered that door,” Jack spat._

_“Jane’s alive?” Elaine repeated._

_“Do we make ourselves clear?” Miranda carried on, refusing to acknowledge her repeated question. “One slip up, and you’re done. I will paint the walls with you no matter what I promised Shepard.”_

_“Wait. No. Please,” her mother seemed to snap out of her trance. A grunt, a thump. Had she struggled to her feet? “Let me see her. I want to tell her I’m sorry. I really am. I’m her mother, I—“_

_“You have never been a mother to her. You have no right to anything she is, or anything she’s done. Despite everything, she is an amazing woman, and an even better friend. If you know what’s good for you, you will forget you ever dared to call her yours.”_

_A pause. Her mother’s voice was trembling was trembling. “Okay.” Was she crying? It sounded like she was crying, or at least, she was trying not to. “I’m done. I won’t hurt her anymore. I swear.”_

_“Then we’re done here,” Miranda said coldly. One set of footsteps. A pause. She suspected Miranda had to drag Jack away._

_“Shepard has made a lot of very dangerous friends,” Jack remarked “Friends who would die for her. Or kill for her. Keep that in mind before you even think of fucking with her again.” Footsteps. The crunch of rubble underfoot. Then silence._

Shepard turned the recording off. Rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ward off the aching tension she’d been carrying for who knows how long. 

“You okay?” Kaiden’s hand drew a soft line up her shoulder, unsure if she was fine with being touched. She placed her hand over his, stilling it, but not pushing it away. 

“All that matters is that she’s out of my life.” 

“How you feel about it matters too.” 

“It was a long time ago.” 

“But it still hurts, doesn’t it?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Of course it did, she wanted to say. Sometimes the shadows beside her bed resembled a man who smelled of cigarettes, and it was the same every night: the glow of her biotics, a scream, usually her own, and the echo of an agonizing crunch. It was those nights that made her feel small, made her curl up into herself, just as she had as a girl of eleven, rocking back and forth as a grown man howled in pain on the stained carpet of her childhood bedroom. Of course, at the time, she had no idea what he wanted from her, but she could assume nothing good. She knew it was best to run before her fears were confirmed. 

And that was the root of it all, wasn’t it? That moment had made her feel powerful. She wasn’t a scared little girl. She was a force to be reckoned with. Someone to be feared. Perhaps not loved, but feared. And she could work with that. 

Or so she thought. How many years had she wasted her time relying on that? Forcing people out? Hannah destroyed the foundation of those ideas, but the structural integrity remained. The knee-jerk reaction, the anger, closing people out. Perhaps it had paused, with Cassie and Omar, but with them gone those walls went right back up again. The anger. The resentment. It was like it had never left. All those times she’d been passed around from assignment to assignment, no attachments to make her stay. Feared. Respected. But never loved. She didn’t dare hope for love. 

Until the Normandy. 

Until Kaiden. 

She leaned into him. Felt his breath, his body, hotter than hers, open up to take her into his arm. She hated this feeling, this pain inside of her chest. She hated herself for hoping that her mother had cared, that it still hurt that she didn’t. Why couldn’t she just get over it?  
She wanted to be angry, it would have easier to be angry. Break things, scream, rage, take it out on whoever was close. That’s what the old Jane would have done. 

But instead she cried, for now the second time that day. 

“What’s wrong with me?” She sputtered. She could count the times she’d cried in the last decade on one hand, she’d bet. It felt wrong to let someone else see her like this, to admit that she was hurt. She was supposed to fix things, not be the thing that needed fixing.  
Perhaps Kaiden had said something comforting, she couldn’t remember. What she did remember was the way he wrapped himself around her, like a shield, the way he never let go until she could feel her strength waning, her body shuttering, until the next thing she knew she was opening her eyes to daylight, and still Kaiden’s arms were around her, even in sleep, refusing to let go, refusing to let her bare her pain alone. And as he slept, instead of sneaking out to the porch, standing guard to a threat that would never come, she allowed herself to sink into his warmth again, closed her eyes, and felt his chest rise and fall against her back. And in that moment nothing else mattered. She was loved. 

She was loved.


	24. Helpless

_When she was young, her most frequent place of refuge was the park by her school. Well, her school when she was still allowed to attend. Back before she was told her biotics were a liability to the other children, weak as they were then, and she was barred from attending until further notice._

_Winter in Detroit meant snow. A rarity for earth, given global climate change. It came down grey, from a grey sky, from air tinged with smog, so the whole world felt like a black-and-white picture. The playground was rusty, old, and graffitied with gang tags. But one could stay warm enough under the slide, and when she was older it became the perfect smoke hole. She would sit there for hours if she needed to. Her mother got mean when she didn’t take her “medicine,” and she knew it was best to make herself scarce during those times. At least at the park she could look for spare change in the coin return at the vending machines, and eventually save enough for one of the waxy chocolate bars that she was sure were older than her._

_She was alone in the park. So sure she’d grow tall one day, she used to be the only kid whose feet reached the ground on the tall swings. She was twisting herself in circles, watching the ground twirl below her, her head spinning, her hair speckled with snow._

_She could see her in the distance, her mother, looking for her, her chestnut brown hair tied into a tight bun. She heard her name called. Something most have happened, something terrible, because her mother never came to pick her up from school, never came looking for her for anything, not since she was old enough to strap a key to and send on her merry way.  
She soared off the swing and ran toward her, but her mother didn’t seem to see her. She turned, as if she could not see her child sprinting with all her might, a trail of breath falling behind her like a steam train. She ran and ran but she never came closer, ran until she became clumsy and weak, until she fell, scraping her knees though her pants, the palms of her hands bloody. _

_“Mom!” She yelled. Screamed. The woman turned, but she was different now. A beautiful woman, a bit older, with tight curls, dark skin, and deep hazel eyes. Hannah. “Mom!” She yelled again, but her body would not cooperate. She pushed, reached, tried to get to her feet, but she was helpless, trying, her face burning from tears, leaving blood handprints in the snow.  
A reverberating, deep, noise penetrated the air; so loud she could feel it in her chest cavity. It made her teeth chatter together, leaving them aching. The sky swelled red, then dark, a massive ship with spider-like legs reaching across the sky. _

_Reapers._

_She looked up, trying to reach for her mother, but she was gone. She was alone, broken, helpless. She closed her eyes and waited for it to be over._

_Someone was calling her name. Over and over. Deep and smooth, sweet, like honey.  
A young man, no, a boy, was reaching for her, offering his hand. His face was red from the cold, and his eyes were dark, his hair even darker. He was familiar, somehow, but the pieces just wouldn’t fall into place. _

_He helped her to her feet. He was strong, and his hands were warm. She’d smeared blood on his blue jacket, but if he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He held onto her as they ran, their feet carrying them out of the park, to where she didn’t know, but it wasn’t long until she tripped again, tearing open the skin on her hands. The boy stopped, his eyes wide and frightened.  
“Go!” She yelled “leave me! Get out of here!” But instead he turned, kneeled down to her, tried to help her up. Her left leg felt numb, unresponsive, something must have been broken, she thought, although it didn’t hurt. “You have to go! Run!” _

_He didn’t budge. His voice was calm. Low. “I can’t leave you, Jane,” he said, whispering, but it was so loud it felt like it echoed in her brain. “You know I can’t.”_

_Darkness was closing in; she could no longer see the path in front of her. That loud, chilling, noise shook her body to its core, louder and closer than before. The boy’s fingers grasped fistfuls of her shirt, and she closed her eyes, waiting for whatever was to come._  
She woke in a cold sweat, tangled in blankets, breathless and alone. 

******  
**

The house was still as she crept to the kitchen for water. Almost too still.  
That sound, that terrible echoing sound that was forever ingrained in her memory, still ricocheted around her body like a bullet, hitting her with a wave of terror every time it bounced off something. She felt like her insides were vibrating, shaking like she was freezing. She was freezing, really, despite being covered in sweat and the temperature control reading a comfortable 21 degrees. She registered a metallic taste in her mouth, thus the need for water. Once she got to the sink, she filled a clean glass, spitting it into the basin. No blood.  
She heard footsteps behind her, familiar ones. She’d recognize Kaiden’s presence blindfolded. So why did every hair on the back of her neck stand up? Why did her skin tingle with electricity, ready to blow at the slightest touch, like the sky swelling before a storm? Why did she dread him coming closer, hearing his voice, acting like everything is okay, or worse, asking what was wrong? 

“There you are, I was wondering how long you’d be out,” his voice was soft, she could practically hear his smile. “I got stuff to make pancakes. Like, real pancakes. And blueberries, your favorite.” 

Of course he came up behind her, his warmth surrounding her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The words didn’t even fully spill out of his mouth before he realized something was wrong. “Oh my god, are you okay? Jesus, you’re shaking like a leaf.” 

She stared at her own hands, one on the faucet, trying desperately to still the shivers, but it only seemed to make worse. Her vision blurred, and her breath caught in her throat, like someone had grabbed her by the neck and thrown her down to the ground. Her heart, well, didn’t exactly hammer, but fluttered weakly, an abnormal rhythm that pulsated across every centimeters of her body, an alarm screaming that something wasn’t right, and as the tremors spread to every inch of her body, she felt her knees buckle. 

She blinked. A sensation of falling, then cold. When she opened her eyes, she was a heap on the floor, Kaiden’s body enveloping hers, and her head felt ready to split open. She was limp in his arms, her head against his chest, her heart thumping weakly but loudly in her ears. Kaiden was saying something, holding her close, his face wrinkled in worry, but she felt distant, like everything around her was happening on a screen a million miles away.  
The world returned suddenly, her ears ringing. 

“Can you hear me? Jane?” He brushed a curl out of her eye that she didn’t know was there, his voice outwardly steady from experience, but rife with panic, she knew, from the way it gets higher than normal at the end of the sentence. “We need to get you to a hospital.”  
“No!” She erupted, as if bursting from the surface of water. Suddenly she gasped for breath, not realizing how badly she’d needed it, and sat up. The room spun in circles and she reached a hand out to steady herself, which did nothing but nearly topple her forward. Kaiden grabbed her by the shoulders and tugged her back, still toppling her, but at least saving her from cracking her head open on the tile floor. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insisted, but she could hear the unsteadiness in her voice. “What happened? How long as I out?” 

“No more than a minute. You’re lucky I was behind you, or your head would have cracked like an egg.” She took a deep breath and the world seemed to steady a bit. She tried sitting up again, this time feeling a bit more stable. Kaiden grabbed her wrist before she could even try to stand. “Take it easy, you’re okay. But we should really get you checked out—" 

“No.” She knew they’d try to keep her there, somehow. Joy had barely sprung her in the first place. She couldn’t take it anymore, not after what happened in London. “I’m fine. Really.” 

“At least let my mom look at you.” 

“She’ll tell me the same thing you did, and I’m not going back to the hospital,” she gritted her teeth. They still felt loose, gritted, like they had in her dream. She tried desperately to loosen her jaw; Chakwas always said that’s where most of her stress headaches came from, although she was doubtful it’d help. It was less of a distant ache and more of a burn, right between her eyes. “You’re a medic. Kind of.” 

“If we’re using that term liberally, yeah,” he scoffed “I can administer medigel, sure. But I’m not exactly a neuroscientist.” 

“Please. I’m fine. I don’t want to make a fuss over this. If it happens again…” 

“Then you’re going to the ER,” Kaiden interrupted “no if, ands, or buts.” 

“You have my word. Think you can sneak my some of your migraine meds?” 

Kaiden shook his head in disbelief. Made a motion to scoop her into his arms, and before she could protest, he was carrying her to the couch, bridal-style, and she could do nothing about it but rest her head against his chest and hope her heart would synch up to his. She could feel the metal of his dog tags under his shirt. She wondered where hers had gone. “Now I understand why your mom said you’ve taken like ten years off her life.” 

“My mom?” Why was that bothersome to her? Why did the mention of Hannah fill her with dread? “You spoke to her the other day, right?” 

“Yeah?” He set her down on the couch. You’d think after two good nights of sleep in a row, she’d be more than awake, but it felt like every ounce of strength she’d had had been drained. She was just as tired as she had been last week, maybe even more so, and she still felt cold. As if sensing this, Kaiden grabbed the throw blanket, which she was pretty sure was supposed to be decorative, over her shoulders. She curled in on herself like a cat, feeling a bit better, but not much, as Kaiden left to rifle through the medicine cabinet. “Why?” 

“I just…I don’t know. I have a bad feeling.” 

“You think something happened to her?” She shrugged, and he returned with water and those familiar blue pills he reserved for when nothing else worked, which she swallowed gratefully. “Come on, spill it. You’ve been trying to tell me something for a while now, I know it. What’s bothering you?” 

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” 

“Oh, we’re way past that,” he waved her concerns away and plopped down next to her. “But it stopped bothering me about the second time I watched you try to punch a Reaper. There’s not a lot that can surprise me at this point.”

She bit her lip. This was it, wasn’t it? Either he’d believe her, or he wouldn’t, and she’d be alone in the universe all over again. “I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. That this peace just…isn’t going to last.” She gave her an inquisitive look, and she sighed. You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? “Doesn’t it just seem too perfect for you?“

“I’m not following.” 

“I just…I shouldn’t have survived this time. We both know it. Even your mom said she doesn’t know how I’m still kicking.” She couldn’t stand the look he gave her. It wasn’t Joy’s fault, she didn’t say anything that wasn’t already bouncing around in her head somewhere.  
Kaiden smiled. “Do you really have to question your luck at this point? You’ve survived impossible odds over and over again. What makes this time different?”

”Akuze was one thing, I was the only N7 graduate there. Survival is kind of our whole shtick. Cerberus was science, not luck. Omega Relay? That was a team effort. But I should have died this time. I should have been crushed to death, burned, whatever. There’s no reason why I should have survived.” And with that in mind, how deep did it all go? Cerberus was being manipulated by the Reapers, or at least The Illusive Man was. She hasn’t considered it at the time, but what if their motivation to bring her back was part of something bigger? What if they’d been manipulated into that too? 

“What if…what if the reapers aren’t really gone? What if I’m here because they’re using me?” She shook her head, not wanting to believe what she was saying. But Joy was right, she was lucky, too lucky. And Saren had thought he was in the right too, once, thought he was saving humanity up until the end. What if she was alive because she was his replacement, his legacy? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “I mean…the Reapers can’t just be…gone. Just like that,” she tried to snap her fingers, but they were too sweaty, to uncooperative. But she’d gotten the point across. 

Kaiden shook his head dismissively. “It wasn’t just like that. It was more like what? Almost six years.” He smiled, trying to break the tension, but Jane lowered her eyes. So they were doing this all over again, then. No one would believe her until it was too late, and then everything would fall to her again. 

She averted her eyes, not wanting him to see how hurt she was, but it was too late. She saw him frown in the corner of her eye. “Jane, they’re gone. You made sure of that.”  
“Did I? Or do they just want me to think I did?”

“You’re being paranoid.” 

Anger swelled in her throat. So history was really repeating itself now? “Yeah, you’re right, maybe I’m being paranoid. But I’m either paranoid, or I’m right, and we’re all in still in danger.” Her eyes met his, sharp like daggers. “See? You do think crazy. Like, bad-crazy.”

Kaiden’s eyes narrowed. He reached for her. “Hey,” he said, gently, putting his hand over hers. She took a deep breath. _He’s only trying to help,_ she reminded herself, _if I believe nothing else, I have to believe that Kaiden is looking out for me._ “Let’s make something clear: I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’ve been through a lot. I think you’ve been told over and over again that nothing is wrong when something is wrong. I think you’ve been told you’re safe when you’re not. I think you have every reason to believe that somethings wrong. But it’s over. I promise you, it’s over.”

“Has my gut ever been wrong?” She retorted, not trying to come across as defensive as she was. 

“No. No it hasn’t.” 

“But you still won’t trust me on this.” 

Kaiden exhaled deeply though his nose, pausing to think. “It’s not about trust. It’s about knowing that I had months to recover from this, and you haven’t.” He paused again, obviously contemplating his next few words carefully. “I think you should talk to someone.” 

“I talk to you. And Joy.” 

“Someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who can help you make sense of all this.” She looked at him, dumbfounded. She could have screamed in frustration if she wasn’t exhausted and sick. “You know, before you came back, I went to a lot of support groups. Lead a lot of them, actually. Lots of really scared people out there, looking for answers.” 

Her head was killing her, her tension headache joining the fray. Even if she could form coherent sentences, she wouldn’t dignify him with a response. 

“I talked about you, every chance I could. I talked about how I didn’t want to give up hope. That you’ve always found your way back to me, somehow. How it felt terrible to say it, but I would have been so relieved if they’d just found your body. I just wanted to say goodbye. To know what happened, either way.”

She glowered at him, leaning her head against the back of the couch as she struggled to keep her eyes open. 

“I got to talk to a lot of people who were going through the same thing. We got to work though it together. As a team.” He smiled, and despite the pain she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She loved her team, and he knew that, they all did. And he’d never let her live down that stupid poster her mother had given her and guilted her to hang in her cabin. Cartoon animals holding up a sign that read _‘Teamwork Makes the Dream Work!’_ The picture he’d mass-emailed to the whole crew had clogged up her inbox with mocking replied for days. 

“Your whole world just got flipped upside down. Everything you knew is gone. Of course something isn’t going to feel right. You’ve done some crazy shit Shepard, some things that really made me question you. That time you almost killed yourself diving after Leviathan. That time you got out of a vehicle to fight a Reaper. Or when you—“ 

“Okay. I get it. I’m an adrenaline junkie,” she interrupted, finally closing her eyes. He sure did know how to make her smile. 

“I questioned your sanity those times, but not now. I think you have every right to feel the way you do. But that doesn’t mean you’re right,” she peeked between the cracks of her eyelids, and he gave her a sympathetic look. “Give it time. You’ve spent your whole life in fight or flight. Or, well, in your case, fight or fight. It’s gonna feel weird just sitting at home. But you have me, and Joy. And there’s nothing you can do or say to change that. Okay?” 

“Okay,” she said, softly, feeling like a child, but in an almost good way. In the taken-care-of-way rather than the helpless way. She still wasn’t convinced, but her strength was waning. Kaiden’s migraine medication always knocked her out quickly, probably since they weren’t prescribed to a five-foot-tall woman with hardly any meat left on her bones. 

“Are you feeling any better? It’d probably be good to get some food in you before you drift off again.” She sensed him inch closer, his voice growing low. “Pancakes are still on the table. Come on, when’s the last time you’ve had a good pancake?” 

“No, thanks,” she sighed. Her awareness was waning, her thoughts slipping between her fingers like fine sand, until she couldn’t care about much of anything anymore. “I still don’t feel so hot.”

He pressed his face to hers, his lips against her forehead, resting a moment. She could feel his stubble. Normally, it would have made her laugh, how prickly it felt against her skin. “You feel pretty warm. I’m going to call my mom, see what she thinks.” 

She nodded, or at least, she thought she did. She was beyond caring, beyond knowing where she was or what hurt anymore, and Kaiden’s voice made less and less sense until it was nothing but a distant warble.


	25. Through Your Eyes

His mother wasn’t picking up. He knew the reason, understood why since he was a child with a stomach ache, face pressed up against the office phone leaving messages asking to be picked up from school, knowing she wouldn’t get them until her shift was over. He’d be angry, hurt, until at the dinner table his mother would solemnly mention that her patient had passed, or that she’d lost another set of scrubs to bloodstains. He knew that his mother’s life didn’t always revolve around him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t frustrated. Less for his sake and more for Shepard’s. 

He flicked the lights off for her, closed the curtains, although she was already out, her face buried in her blanket up to her nose. He was sure she’d be fine, for now at least, but eventually she’d have to stick it out and be seen by someone. He wouldn’t wish a lifetime of migraines on anyone, and that wasn’t even the worst of his worries. He’d be damned if after everything they’d been though, she slipped right out from under him due to a head bleed or something just as easily preventable, or otherwise suffered unnecessarily in any way. He couldn’t blame her for doing anything to avoid the hospital, but god it would just be easier if she wasn’t so damn stubborn. Not that he could talk, she’d said the same thing about him before. 

He knew he needed to check in with Hackett. He’d written to him the other day, requesting updates, but it wasn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind at the time. Now was as good of a time as any, with Shepard knocked out for at least an hour or two, probably more. He had some things to say anyway, before he lost his nerve. 

He closed the door behind him as he placed the call. Hackett picked up after just two rings. 

“Major Alenko, I was starting to think something was wrong.” He looked well, better than he had these past few months, but then again, most people did. “Any updates on her condition? I spoke to Hannah briefly; she mentioned a transfer to Vancouver.” 

“Ja—Shepard was discharged last week, sir. My mother is a nurse, so she and I have been caring for her. She’s doing okay, all things considered.” Considering she should be dead ten times over. It was hard to dismiss that claim. She wasn’t wrong, not in the slightest, but with her here it was difficult to imagine a world where she hadn’t made it. What would he even have left? God knows building a life for himself didn’t work after he’d lost her the first time. His mother had tried setting him up with colleague after colleague. At best, they couldn’t keep up with the ‘ups and downs of military partnership.’ At worst, things ended with the same message. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not her. I can’t be her.’ 

God knows Shepard has been the glue that held everyone together, he never thought the Normandy crew would dissolve so quickly without her. That he’d find it so difficult to enjoy his work without the people who made it worthwhile. Even coming home for a few weeks did nothing; his father had his own work volunteering with veterans’ affairs, and his mother had a life and friends of her own outside of him. He felt himself growing harder and colder on the inside. He thought he’d understood why Shepard had been so standoffish when they’d first met, but her death brought a whole new layer to it. Even when she’d been restored to him, there was that knee-jerk reaction of defensiveness and mistrust, even when he was staring the person whose loss had caused such a painful shift in him. 

“She’s safe where you are? No one knows where she is?” 

“Yes, sir, she’s safe and secure. No one but my family knows she’s here.” He chose deliberately not to mention the size of his family, not that they weren’t all Alliance-types who knew how to keep secrets. “Is there a threat I should be aware of?” Hackett seemed to think of a moment, contemplating whether to let his tongue slip. “You charged me with protecting her. I can’t do that if you’re keeping me in the dark.” 

He shook his head. Sighed. Took off his hat and ran his fingers through his light grey hair. “Shepard may be a peacemaker, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t made plenty of enemies.”  
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that. I’ve lost count of how many attempts on her life there were last year.” The thought of it made his stomach churn, although it didn’t at the time. She didn’t need protecting then, she’d made that abundantly clear, but now? Now things were a whole lot different. Now she needed him, for once, more than he needed her. 

“Everyone trusts her intrinsically; Humans, Asari, Salarians, Turians, even the damn Krogan are naming their children after her. The _krogan_ admire a _human_. She’s unprecedented. We need her,” he stressed. “You know there’s people out there who don’t like the things she’s done. They don’t want peace. They want supremacy. And the only thing keeping them from ruining everything we worked for is the threat that she—” he pointed into the camera, unknowingly gesturing to the door which hid her from view “—Will come kick their asses if they try anything.” 

“Organizations like Cerberus?” Kaiden clarified, and Hackett nodded. “With all due respect, sir. She’s not exactly in a shape to kick anyone’s ass. You can’t put that on her, not now.” 

“Which is why she can’t be found. We’ve done our best to keep the rumors alive that she’s out there, just laying low for now. People can’t know how bad she is. We need her to get better, and get back out there. Remind them that humanity is a force to be reckoned with, and so is anyone who stand with us.” His eyes glimmered as he spoke, the look that inspired so many to fight and die for the cause. But Kaiden was disillusioned to it. The cost was too high. He had asked for too much. 

“And what if she says no?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Sir, with all due respect, you’ve asked enough of her,” he asserted. “She gave you everything, she was willing to give her life for god’s sake, over and over again. When is it enough? When does she get to find her peace?” 

Hackett didn’t seem to know what to say to this. He shifted his jaw, clearly stressed. “Has she expressed a desire to resign from the Alliance?” 

Of course she didn’t, Kaiden wanted to snap. She feels like she owes the Alliance for her life, and she’s insufferably loyal, and a chronic workaholic. She doesn’t feel like she can refuse, not when your way is the only way she knows. 

“No,” Kaiden answered frankly, “but every medical professional I’ve spoken to has recommended she be discharged, Dr. Chakwas just to name one. She’s given more than her fair share.” He could few himself gritting his teeth, unable to express his anger as outwardly as he wanted to. “Don’t you get it? She may never have a normal life. You have no idea how bad it is. You have no idea what you’ve taken from her.”

Of course, it wasn’t all Hackett’s fault. But he was in front of him, and he was the only one who he could express this to. He was scared shitless, to be honest, backed into a corner. He couldn’t lose her again, and the fact was that if Hackett came calling, he wasn’t sure he could stop her. Insufferably loyal. It was the reason she’d stuck by him after Horizon, even if he didn’t deserve it. Now, if could be the thing that tore them apart again.

“And how do you know what’s good for her?” 

He wanted to snap, every alarm in his brain going off, the primal urge to protect, to defend what he had. She’s my best friend, my future wife, he wanted to scream, but it wouldn’t exactly make the situation better. 

“No one knows her better than me, Admiral.” 

“But it’s her decision, Major. Stand down.” 

“No.” He was beyond caring what this meant for his career. God, how did Shepard do it? All those times the Alliance had abandoned her, used and abused her, and she’d still kept it diplomatic, bowed her head and took it, followed orders, got the job done. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t watch the Alliance take her from him again. To say that she was the only person who made him feel seen and known was an understatement. Those things were a hell of a lot easier than what they had; she didn’t just see him, she saw _though_ him. It was like seeing through each other’s eyes. He knew when they looked up, they saw galaxy the same way. It was more than just being known; it was being understood. And if he fought for nothing else his whole life, hers is the hill he would die on. “You gave me an order to protect her, at all costs. And I am. From you.” 

“Major Alenko—“ 

He hung up—God, it felt good to do, now he understood why Shepard had done it those few times to the Council—and let himself sink into bed, pressing his palms to his eyes. He knew it wasn’t a mistake, and he would do it again, but that didn’t mean he felt good about it. He knew all too well that sometimes all you could do was choose the best of several bad options, and no one walked away feeling great from those situations. 

When he’d collected himself, he made his way back to the living room, where Shepard still slept in what must have been a terribly uncomfortable position. Fitful and restless as she was, she could fall asleep just about anywhere. His favorite place he’d ever found her was the shower, the water still running, dripping down her bare back. She must have sat down for a moment, which she liked to do to think sometimes, and drifted off. He wouldn’t have even noticed had EDI hadn’t grown concerned that there was a leak somewhere in her cabin, and requested someone check the upper decks before they docked for emergency repairs. 

Still, her neck would be sore in the morning if he didn’t do anything, and so once again he gathered her into his arms, carrying her back to the bedroom. Her head slumped against his chest; her mouth just ever so slightly open. He laid her down gently on the mattress, made sure she was under the covers, and brushed her hair out of her face. Her eyebrows shifted for a moment, perhaps she was dreaming? But her face quickly went lax again, and she sighed deeply, her back rising and falling. He always loved tracing the freckles on her back, as if looking at a map of the stars. They were covered now by her cotton T-shirt, but he had a good idea of the terrain. She had a strawberry birthmark on her left shoulder, and a cluster that almost formed a smiley face on the right. Three lined up perfectly, a perfect rendition of Orion’s Belt, along her spine, and one toward the base looked almost like the Little Dipper (or the Big Dipper, in her opinion, a matter they debated multiple times.) For a moment, he simply drew gently circles in her skin, tracing a curl that had formed a marble-sized ringlet, enjoying her warmth and her life. At least he still had someone to worry about, he told himself, counting his blessings. 

Maybe things didn’t feel okay now, but they would be, he knew. None of that other shit mattered anymore. Not the Alliance, not the Council, not even Hackett. 

As cliché as it sounded, as long as they had each other, everything else would work out. They always had. They always would.


	26. Had to Be Me

She woke to Kaiden’s warmth next to her. He was sitting in the bed, by her side, one hand subconsciously rubbing circles into her shoulder. He didn’t notice her open her eyes, something was distracting him on his Omni-tool. His face was stiff, emotionless, concentrating on something, and for a moment she stayed perfectly still, enjoying the quiet moment. She loved watching him work, loved seeing the way his eyes focused, how his face lit up when he talked about his students. She could listen to him talk about it all night long. 

He spotted her open eyes. Smiled. Pressed his palm to her shoulder, seemed to give her a light shake, as if to fully awaken her. 

“Hey,” his voice was low. Soft. She loved when he spoke to her in such a disarming way. Sometimes it felt good to feel soft, relaxed, safe. God knows she didn’t feel that way very often. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” She propped herself up on her side, wiggling so she could sit up against the headboard. The world still felt a bit fuzzy, a bit distant, as a side effect from the medicine or her own head she didn’t know. But her migraine was gone, and her heart felt steady. Good enough for her. “A lot better, thanks to you.” She reached for his hand, pressed it against her cheek, closing her eyes, emulating that gesture of his. He smiled and cupped her face, gently. But when she opened his eyes, his expression was anything but calm. “What’s wrong?” 

“Jane…” he sighed. Shifted uncomfortably. Glanced down at his Omni. So unlike him. When they were together, he always said he liked for it to just be them. No distractions, if it was possible, and it rarely was. She was beginning to get worried. “We need to talk.” 

*************** 

“The Alliance wants me back.” 

Kaiden nodded solemnly, sitting back on the couch. 

“They want me back.” She pressed her fingers to her lips, as if wishing to feel the words as she spoke them. She smiled, a reaction he’d feared. He couldn’t blame her, he reminded herself. Who doesn’t enjoy feeling needed? 

They were sitting in their living room, sunset spilling between the shades. Shepard was still in her cotton T-shirt and shorts, curled up in the same spot as before. She looked better, Kaiden had to admit. Her color has returned, and she didn’t have such a distant look in her eyes. Her voice was strong, steady, like her hands. Hopefully this lasted, but her episode laid heavily on his mind. 

“Do you know what they want me for? What the situation is?” 

“No,” Kaiden admitted “but Hackett seemed to think you could be in danger.” 

“So…nothing really changed?” She laughed “I can’t believe you hung up on Hackett.”  
“I know,” he groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes again “don’t remind me. My dad would kill me if he knew.” 

“Admit it. It does feel kinda good though.” 

“Yeah, for a minute. Until I go on trial for treason or something.” 

“Oh relax, you’re a Spectre,” she reminded him “they won’t touch you. If it was a treason-level offense, I’d be locked up for life by now.” 

“You were on house arrest if I remember correctly.” 

“Oh hush,” she waved him away. “That was different and you know it.” There was a pause. Even if they joked about it, there was still a seriousness to the conversation, looming over their heads. Shepard sighed, crossed her arms over her chest. “Any idea what Hackett wants me for?” 

Kaiden shook his head. “I told you everything I know.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” The words felt awkward in her mouth. She wasn’t used to feeling this way, she usually just followed her gut, did what she knew it be right. She picked at a hangnail on her thumb. Her mother did the same thing; they both had dents on their left thumbs from years of doing this nervous tic. Even when Cerberus rebuilt her from scratch, she’d made short work of forming a callus there again. It was comforting, almost, to share this thing with Hannah. Maybe they didn’t share blood, but at least they could still share this. “What do you think?” 

“I think you should stay here,” Kaiden said, seriously “You’ve heard it from Chakwas and my mom, you’re in no shape to return to the Alliance. No one is going to blame you for retiring.” He paused. “No one sensible anyway.” 

She thought for a moment. Tried to picture making her life here, with Kaiden, but the image was hazy if not transparent. “I don’t know if I have much of a choice. What else am I going to do with myself?” 

“I don’t follow.” 

She bit her lip. He really didn’t understand, did he? Of course, Kaiden had something to come back to on earth. Something without the Alliance. For her, her life _was_ the Alliance. It was the only family she’d ever known, the only place that made her feel like someone worthwhile. “I can’t just sit around here. You see how much I get stuck in my own head; I need something to do.” 

“We can find you something.” 

“You don’t get it,” she took her head, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know how to do anything but be a solider. That’s all I’ve ever been good at. I don’t know what I am outside of that.” Her mouth filled with the taste of copper; she must have bitten open her lip again. “I don’t know if I can be the person you want me to be here. I don’t know if the person you fell in love with exists outside of a war room.” 

“Jane—“ 

“I can’t give you any of the thing you want,” she interrupted. “Your mom and I talked. I know you want a family, and I can’t do that. I can’t put a kid though what either of my mother’s did to me.” He reached for her across the table, trying to comfort her, but she didn’t move her arms from her chest. “I don’t belong here. I want to, I really do. But you know it, and I know it.” Her voice was steady, honest. She wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know from the get-go. It was the Shepard family curse. Adopted or not, it lived in her, and it would kill her, like it or not. And she was at peace with that. Gods knows it should have taken her years ago. 

“None of that matters, you’re my family Jane. You’re all I need. I just want you to be happy.” His eyes were pleading, wide, sad. God, she hated herself for hurting him. For leading him on, making him think that any of this would work. She tried; she really did. “Aren’t you happy here?” 

What was she supposed to say? There were so many moments of peace, so many moments of contentment that mimicked happiness, but it was only a matter of time before it was torn away, either by an imaginary force or a real one. If her mind wouldn’t let her rest, the least she could do was give it a legitimate reason. Go out and find the danger before it found her.  
It was the waiting that always killed her. 

“I don’t know,” she said, after a long time, and she watched Kaiden’s face fall. He tried to hide it, but it was obvious. “I’m happy with you. That I know,” she reassured him. “There is no one else in the universe who makes me feel the way you do. But no matter how hard I try I don’t feel like I belong.” 

“What can I do? What can we do to make you feel like you do?” 

“I don’t know.” She buried her face in her hands. Tried to think, but the words stopped short.  
“Maybe you need a hobby, something to get you out of the house. What would you have been, if you weren’t a soldier? I know when I was a kid, I wanted to be a hockey player. Like every other kid in Vancouver.” He smiled encouragingly. God. She wished she had a better answer. 

“If I weren’t a solider?” She looked up. “Dead for sure.” She laughed, in spite of herself. Kaiden didn’t. “I don’t know what you want me to say here, Kaiden.” 

“I’m just…I’m trying to understand. Going back to the Alliance, is that what you want?” 

“It’s all I’m really good for, isn’t it?” She asked, looking up. His eyebrows knitted together in a look of further confusion. “Doing the things no one else will. Following orders. That’s all I’m good for.” 

“It’s all you think you’re good for because it’s all you know,” he tried to correct her. “Does being with the Alliance even make you happy anymore?” 

She didn’t answer right away. She owed the Alliance a lot, that was for certain. It was the only place where she felt comfort in belonging, in doing before overthinking it. It was the only place she felt like she had a family, the Normandy team, that was her family. And she was proud of her accomplishments, that was for sure. But she’d never really had much time to think about what she wanted, if she was happy or not. If her mom was to be trusted, then the answer was to just keep moving, take as many jobs as you could, don’t let the past catch up to you. She’d lived by that since Akuze. What would life even look like if she abandoned that train of thought?

Then again, she hadn’t exactly chosen to join the Alliance in the first place. It wasn’t like she’d spent years dreaming of saving the world like Cassie had. As much as she wanted to believe it was her choice, she hadn’t really had much of a say in it. Between being a biotic and being a delinquent, she’d practically been born into it, not much more different than if she had been Hannah’s daughter all along. Did it make her happy, or was it all she knew? Was it only comforting because it was familiar, the devil she knew?

“I gave my whole life to them,” she said softly, ignoring the question. 

Kaiden smiled. “You’re not even 35. Not even half a life.” Finally, he reached out to her, and she allowed him. His hand caressing her shoulder, his warmth running up her skin. She closed her eyes. _At least we have each other. No matter what. I don’t know a lot, but I know I’ll always have him. Not even the damn reapers could take that away_. “The Alliance isn’t a life sentence, Jane. And it doesn’t have to be a death sentence, either.” 

_Try telling that to a Shepard,_ she thought. _Oh wait, you can’t, because Hannah and I are the last of them for a reason_ “I just…I feel so lost. I just don’t know—“she stopped. _I don’t even know what I don’t know._

“It’s okay,” he said, and he pulled her close. “No matter what, I’m right behind you. You know that, right?” 

She nodded. She did, of course she did. 

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna make some calls. I have an idea.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t want to make any promises but…” he sighed. She could see the wheels turning in his head. “You’ll see. I think it’ll help.” 

“Okay,” she agreed, softly. “I still want to know what Hackett wants from me. Just…know how serious it is.” 

“You’ve given them enough. It doesn’t always have to be you, you know.” 

She bit her lip. What if she was right, about what she said before, and the reapers weren’t really gone? There was no point in bringing this up to Kaiden, worrying him more, but if that was the case then the Alliance still needed her. The damn universe still needed her. And it would make sense why Hackett was so adamant about her return, it had to be her. _Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong_. She felt a pang of regret when she thought of Mordin. There really was no other way, was there? She always thought they were so different, admittedly he’d gotten on her nerves a bit when they’d first met. She didn’t know how to talk to him. But maybe that was because they were just too similar. Would she meet the same fate? 

“I’m not saying I’m going back. I just…want to consider my options,” he said, finally, her voice steady, leaving no room for argument. “I want to talk to him in person. If he wants to ask me to risk my life again, the least he can do is look me in the eyes as he decides if it’s worth it.” 

She could hear the disappointment in his voice. Sense the tension in his sigh. “Okay,” he finally said “whatever you think is best. I’ll see how soon we can get to Vancouver.” 

“Thank you,” she replied distantly, refusing to look at him. She couldn’t win, no matter what, could she? Sometimes all you can do is make the better of two bad choices, but this time, she didn’t know which one hurt the least. 

“Hey,” he said, gently, squeezing her hand. She looked up, surprised to see him smiling. “I’m proud of you, no matter what happens.” 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling despite herself. 

“I need to make those calls, but I love you, and I’m gonna support whatever you choose to do. Just…don’t make any decisions yet, okay?” 

He nodded, and he smiled. “I love you too.” And then he was gone, the front door closing behind him, and she was left alone with her thoughts sinking like stones. What if she was right, and the war wasn’t over yet? She couldn’t walk away now, not knowing if her work was done. But then again, what if there was no threat? What if Kaiden was right, and this was just the Alliance asking too much of her again, asking her to give and give until there was nothing left?  


Would she be able to walk away, even then?


	27. The Return

They left for Vancouver two days later. 

Joy accompanied them to their pick-up point, drove them there on her way to work despite Hackett offering transport the full way. She seemed to be clinging, oddly enough, to both of them, as if she were afraid they’d slip away again. Jane couldn’t help but start to believe what she’d said earlier about her being family; she hugged her just as long, if not longer, than her own child, as if trying to make up for lost time. 

Goodbyes were never very solemn between Jane and Hannah. They both had jobs to do, places to be, and a life communicating though hurried emails and quick calls between missions was all they’d ever had. When goodbyes are so very frequent, there’s not much use to dragging them out; they’d last forever. After Akuze, she seemed a bit clingier, but Jane had already grown accustom to hasty goodbyes, and found the sentimentality a bit strange if a bit irritating.  
God, when was the last time she’d seen her mother? It wasn’t uncommon for them to go months without seeing each other, both so caught up in their own little worlds, but it had been a long time, even by their standards. They’d met briefly, covertly, just before the Omega-4 Relay. Her mother booked a hotel room and flew out to the Citadel just to see her, cup her face in her hands and take in the fact that despite everything she’d been told for the past two years, her child was alive. She couldn’t stop looking at her. Her eyes asked a million questions. _How are you alive? Are you real? What happened to you? Where are you going? Are you okay? How can you be involved with Cerberus, after everything they put you and your men through on Akuze? Have you been eating? Are they hurting you? Why didn’t you call? What are you thinking? Are you in danger? Will I ever see you again?_

Of course, she didn’t dare ask. The answers would just hurt them both, and they knew it. At the very least, if Jane was a dead woman walking, she could leave a clean cut behind, refuse to drag her mother down more than she already had. 

Had that really been the last time? It must have. They were allowed closely monitored video calls twice a week while she was under house arrest, despite Hannah kicking and screaming to come see her. Their conversations were mostly just asking if the other way okay, but it wasn’t much of a comfort. If they had been treating her poorly, god knows they wouldn’t let her say it. And Hannah knew better than to ask the serious questions that would get her blocked for future contact. 

Then the reapers had hit earth. Hannah had been on earth at the time, and it made Jane’s stomach lurch. Message after message, and nothing went though. It wasn’t until Hackett confirmed she was working for the Crucible that she even knew her mother was still kicking, and even their messages were brief, shallow. God, it must have been years since she’d really talked to Hannah. She had a sudden surge of affection for Joy, wanted to thank her for making her feel welcome, for loving her, but she couldn’t find the words. It was hard to let go.  
“I love you both so much. Don’t do anything stupid. Either of you,” she looked pointedly at Jane, and she laughed. 

“I don’t do stupid things, ma’am. Reckless, maybe. But not stupid.” 

“Just come back in one piece. If you don’t…” she looked directly at Kaiden “I will be very cross at you. Both of you, please. Just stay safe.”

“Don’t worry so much. We’re just going to talk,” Kaiden reassured her “trust me, even she couldn’t turn this into a dangerous trip.” She didn’t look convinced. She crossed her arms, glanced at Shepard as if to say: _I’m sure you’ll find a way._

“Mom,” Kaiden smiled, shaking his head. “Come on. We’ll be back before you know it.”  
Joy tilted her head, looking at her child with a mild, saddened expression before tenderly reaching out to straighten the collar of his jacket. “You know that’s what your dad said, before he sent me to your uncle’s alone.” She shook her head, glanced at Jane and asked. “Can you believe he left us?” She tried to smile, as if Kaiden’s father had simply gotten stuck in traffic, missed dinner, gotten lost on the way home and was too stubborn to ask for directions. 

Kaiden gave her a sympathetic look, hugged her again while Shepard tried not to stare. She couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. She felt terrible, sure, knew Kaiden was probably hurting, and so was Joy. But she’d never witnessed grief in this kind of way. With Hannah, it was always move on, get out of here, don’t move back or you’ll be lost. She hardly ever spoke about Ann, the so-called love-of-her-life. It was hard to imagine Hannah ever missing her, at least enough to talk about it.

“We’re coming back. I promise,” Kaiden told her, finally letting go. He glanced at Shepard, perhaps looking for some additional comforting words, catching her off-guard. She coughed. Scrambled to think of something. 

“Nothing’s going to happen to Kaiden. You have my word,” she said, finally “I don’t leave people behind.” 

Except Ashley. And Cassie. And Omar. And Mordin. And Thane. And so many other good men, too many to name, sent to die before their time. 

Joy hardly smiled, turning her attention to her. “And what about you, dear?” She asked, tucking a stand of hair behind Shepard’s ear. The Alenko’s were a touchier clan than the Shepard’s, that was for sure. At first it was off-putting, but she’d grown to like it. 

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured her “I promise. We’ll be okay as long as we’re together.”  
Joy stayed to wave them off their next shuttle, her scrubs billowing in the breeze, she didn’t stop waving until she was a dot from the sky, minuscule, insignificant. Kaiden watched her long after she was gone, sighing. 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Shepard said, finally, pressing her hand over his. Perhaps she’d never had a dad to lose, but she could imagine. “He seemed like a good man. I’m…I’m just so sorry, Kaiden.” She swallowed. He’d never brought it up, not since he’d returned to the Normandy, and she’d been so caught up in herself to ask. She felt terrible. “Do you want to talk about him?” 

Kaiden shook his head. Shrugged. His expression was unreadable, until finally he smiled. “He would have really liked you, you know.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Absolutely. You would have reminded him of his old military buddies,” Kaiden continued. He laced his fingers in hers. Pulled her close. “We could have sat out on the porch. You and him would have had a beer together, tell stories, try to one-up each other. You’d win, of course, and he’d probably let something slip that my mom didn’t know about and she’d get pretty mad. And then you’d end up arm wrestling on the coffee table. He might have you beat because of your injuries — but not by much. I think you’d make him laugh too, you both have that old-solider sense of humor.” 

“He sounds like a great man.” 

“Yeah. He was.” Kaiden smiled, and Shepard pressed her head against his shoulder. “I’m okay with what happened. Maybe he wasn’t on board with the whole reaper-thing in the beginning…but he came around. He believed in you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, no one could really prepare for what happened, but he came pretty damn close. We talked just before they hit earth. We said our goodbyes. Just in case. Said he had a son he was proud of, a wife he loved, family who kept close. What else could anyone really ask for?”  
“I’m glad you had that talk,” she smiled, but her mind went to Hannah. When was the last time they spoke? She couldn’t remember. What if that was the last time? 

“I feel okay about my dad. Okay as I can be. I just…I feel sorry for my mom,” Kaiden admitted. “She’s alone. I mean, she has my dad’s family, and they love her, but I know how lonely she gets.” Lonely? Shepard never would have guessed. She flowed so easily into the room, into the Alenko’s, that she would have hardly guessed it. “Her family hasn’t checked in yet, and they’re on the other side of the world. Even if she did hear back from them, she’s hardly going to move back to Singapore and leave everything behind. I’m all she has now.” Jane could see where this was going, and lowered her eyes. “No parent should have to bury their child. I can’t do that to her.” 

Ouch. Shepard couldn’t help but wince. She was sure it wasn’t a jab at her, but it sure felt like it. Not that she didn’t deserve it. She couldn’t imagine how much she’d hurt Hannah, all her near-death stunts (not to mention the two years she was actually dead). How many times had she rushed into danger, not even factoring in how much she’d hurt Hannah if she died? She couldn’t help but think of the way she squeezed her arm at Cassie’s funeral. _My one and only_ , she’d called her. She’d been so grateful to have kept her only child, her only family. And then not even a few years later, she’d bury that child over and over again, never knowing which time would be the last time. She’d never asked what Hannah did during those two years she was dead, after all, it only felt few like a few days for her. Did she stay with the Alliance? Did she talk about what happened? Did she believe any of the rumors that her daughter was alive, let any of them give her hope? Did she close up, refuse to talk, try move on as if nothing happened the way she did after Ann? 

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, Kaiden. You know that. You don’t have to follow if you don’t want to.” Hannah must hate her, deep down, she was sure. Or resent her at least. How else could she endure watching her child walk into fire over and over with no regard to her family? Joy was too kind, too innocent to how much danger her son was really in. Losing Kaiden would crush her, she was sure. She couldn’t ruin another family. No need to leave a trail of broken mothers in her wake.

Kaiden shook his head, rolled his eyes. “You’re starting to make me think you’re trying to get rid of me.” 

“I’m trying not to drag you down with my dumb decisions.” 

“Like I said, that ship had sailed,” he put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close. “Can you relax for once? Our meeting isn’t until Tomorrow.” 

“Our meeting is today?” 

“Oops. Did I say that?” Kaiden grinned, “guess we have a whole day in Vancouver to ourselves.” 

“ _Kaiden_.” 

“Come on, there’s worse places to spend a day. You’ve never been to Vancouver.” 

“Yes I have,” she said adamantly. “Are you forgetting that Alliance headquarters is there? That I was under house arrest for months?”

“Yeah, but have you ever been to Vancouver for anything _not_ related to the Alliance?” He didn’t need an answer, it was clear as the scowl on her face. “Exactly. So you’ve never been to Vancouver.” 

“This isn’t a vacation.” 

“Come on. Humor me for once,” he begged “one drink on the English Bay. Maybe a little stroll around the city. Then if you want to go wallow in indecisiveness for the rest of the day, I’ll let you.” 

“I do not _wallow_ in indecisiveness.” 

“Whatever you say, dear.” He kissed her in the top of her head, his face buried briefly in her soft red hair. The likelihood of her being recognized in Vancouver were slim, but not impossible. Still, he had faith they could handle themselves. She deserved this. One day to let rest the weight on her shoulders. Get a taste of what life could look like for them if she finally chose peace.

***************

It was cherry tree season on the bay, no better time of year for a visit, and that wasn’t just Kaiden’s opinion. Even with the world still bouncing back from the Reapers, the park was crawling with tourists taking photos of themselves by the waterfront, under the blossoming trees, in groups on the tiny metal benches. When they reached a less congested part of the park, Kaiden took her hand, lead her to the edge of the water and backed up with his omni tool out. 

“Stand still,” he told her, and she gave him an inquisitive look. “I want to take your picture.”  
“Kaiden, no— “she protested, covering her face, just had Hannah said she always did. She motioned to move back toward him, but nearby stranger on a bench started to make his way toward them. 

“Hey, want me to take a picture of the two of you instead?” 

Kaiden grinned. “Yes, thank you, thank would be great!” Shepard shook her head as Kaiden handed the total stranger his Omni. He pulled her close, his hands around her waist, and she tried to conjure an awkward smile. Kaiden kissed her on the nose, surprising her enough to get her to laugh. The camera clicks, and Kaiden returned to the stranger. 

“Thank you, we really appreciate it,” Kaiden tells him, taking back his Omni-tool to look at the photo. Shepard gets on her tip-toes to see. Normally, she would despise having her picture taken. But the image made her heart melt. She looked…happy. 

“No problem. You two tourists?” He asked. 

“I’m originally from here. She’s not,” Kaiden answered, putting an arm around her.

“Right on. Well, enjoy your stay! Nice meeting you!” He waved them off, returning to a bike parked near the bench, and was off. Kaiden waved at his as he disappeared down the path.  
“I can’t believe you just gave a total stranger your Omni-tool,” Shepard told him, shaking her head. 

“It was a calculated risk. I trust in Canadian hospitality.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’d walk off with it,” she answered. “Not in a crowded tourist area, with two people who look like they can handle themselves. I mean the fact that there’s probably some more-than-sensitive Alliance info on there that’s probably best if the general public didn’t see.”  
Kaiden took her hand, and they continued down the path to a cobblestoned area lined with shops. It was more crowded here, with cafes and restaurants and children playing in a nearby fountain. “Yeah, but I got what I needed, that’s what matters.” 

“Which was?” 

“Finally having a picture of you,” he answered. “You know, between your mom and I, we didn’t have a single good photo of you to show people while you were missing.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. She said you used to cover your face every time she tried to take one. Why is that?” 

Shepard paused. If she mentioned it, would he ever stop seeing it? “I look like my mom. My birth mom.” He looked at her, sadly. “It’s the nose, mostly. I’m sure you noticed.” He had, not that he would say it. People had always pointed that out to Shepard when she was a child, how she was the spitting image of her mother. Since she’d enlisted, she was always waiting for the day someone recognized her features, despite the chances being slim. She’d done all she could to sever that tie, and yet her own face betrayed her, keeping her from forgetting. She even thought about having surgery to change it, but who has the time? 

“That’s not what I think about when I see you,” Kaiden said “I’ve always loved your nose. Is that a weird thing to say?” 

Before she could think of something snarky to respond with, she was cut off as Kaiden dropped her hand, looking at something in the distance. “Yes! It’s still here! Hold that thought for a moment, okay? Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh…okay?” Kaiden took off a bit ahead, disappearing inside of a nearby store. Shepard sighed, rolled her shoulders, and took a moment to examine her surroundings. 

Vancouver really was beautiful, she thought. She’d never really paid attention. The few times she’d been there had been strictly business, she’d never even been to the park or shopping district. When she was on house arrest, she was allowed one half-hour walk per day, but she hardly ever used it. Hard to enjoy the view with half an armed battalion coming along for the ride, ready to shoot her if her finger so much as twitched. Not that any of them stood a chance if she decided to escape, which she thought about more than a few times. She complied with the red tape only because of Anderson, but in her head, she thought about making a run for it a billion times. Less because she believed she’d be released, and more because she knew they were wasting time. She’d spent hours calculating how to leave behind the least casualties, where she’d go once she escaped, how she could contact Joker and anyone else who’d be willing to go rogue with her again. Maybe it wasn’t realistic, but it was a fun daydream. Kept her mind off things. 

She sat by the fountain, dipped her hand in, surprised that the cold didn’t bother the nearby kids splashing away. A couple a few meters away were enjoying dinner and drinks at a nearby restaurant, and under the table was an old dog with blonde fur and a heavy face. Would it be weird to ask to pet it? Probably. She’d always wanted a dog. In the Reds, some members had big, mean-looking guard dogs that they waved around like status symbols, but deep down they were usually very sweet. One of the more honest jobs she had was taking care of a big Rottweiler named Tank, taking him for walks in the morning, feeding him when his owner was away. At first, she’d been afraid; the first Varren she’d ever met had bitten her in the face, puncturing her cheek and leaving a permanent scar. But Tank was sweet on her, always putting his paws on her shoulder to lick her face, his back legs twitching with excitement when she scratched his back. She felt a certain kinship with him; they were both misunderstood. Used and abused because they had potential to be dangerous, never admitting that all they wanted was to be loved. She’d cried when he bit a cop during a raid and was put down. At least he hadn’t suffered. 

Kaiden came out of the store with a grin on his face and a bag that advertised The Toy Box in bright jovial colors, which he offered to her with few words. “My parents used to take me to this store when I was a kid all the time. I was hoping they’d have this for you.” 

“What on earth could you have possibly—Oh my god. They made a model SR-2?” Her face lit up as she lifted the box into her hands, studying it closely. The details were perfect, down to the chipped paint on the hull from passing though the Omega-4 Relay. 

“I know how much your collection on the Normandy meant to you. It’ll probably take years to get that back…but I guess this is a start.” 

Her heart felt full in a way she couldn’t really describe. It felt childish, sure, but she’d really loved those ships. She liked the detail that was put into them, the care. Kaiden has been with when she’d started collecting them, of course. They said the proceeds were going to Huerta Memorial, and it was a good enough cause…but something about the tiny airlock had left her enamored. She always looked for new models, every time they went to the citadel. Maybe some people would think it a weird hobby for a commander to have, but Kaiden said it was rather endearing, and so she’d never stopped, started even started displaying them in her cabin. 

“Thank you. This is…” it was difficult to find the words. The Normandy had been her home. To have a piece of it back…

Kaiden glanced at his Omnitool, smiled, not even taking notice of her struggle to find words. “Hey, sorry to cut this short, but I have a surprise for you at the docks that’s just arrived.” 

“Is a good surprise?” 

Kaiden put his Omni down, a devious grin on his face. 

***

The docks were familiar to her, at least. The last time she saw it, it had been a wreck. Broken bodies and blood littering the ground, some burned beyond recognition, Anderson waving at her to go, get out of there while she still could, asking her to do the impossible and tear herself away from the sight. 

But now they were back to the way she liked to remember them; peaceful, yet buzzing with activity as people bustled from place to place. The last time she’d seen it intact, she’d been surrendering to the Alliance, her hands up in surrender. She was glad not to be recognized.  
Kaiden waves to someone in the distance, obviously seeing them above the crowd, a luxury Shepard doesn’t have. Then she sees him, or rather, sees the dark blue of his hat. It takes everything she has not to run to him, she settles for walking faster, arms out, readying an embrace. God, what had staying with the Alenko’s done to her? 

“Joker!” He steps toward her, smiling. She noted his crutches, but he seemed steady when she wrapped him in a hug. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s really you! How are you here?” 

“I’m here to make you pay. You broke my girlfriend you bastard,” he deadpans. 

“Joker,” EDI’s familiar voice chimes from his wrist. “My mobile platform was damaged, I’ve informed you multiple times—“ 

“Come on EDI. Now that we’re both crippled, I could have stood a chance against her,” Joker sighs letting go of her. Her heart pounds, so full she felt like she could take flight. Knowing someone is alive is one thing, but seeing it—

“Doubtful. Shepard May have sustained injuries, but her biotic abilities—“ 

“See? Broken. Mostly her sense of humor, but still,” Joker remarks, interrupting her. “I can’t believe you’re still alive. If Kaiden had been funny for once in his life, I would have thought he was joking.” 

“Takes more than that to kill me. You know that by now,” Shepard smiled “where have you been? What have you been doing?” 

“I’ve been busy. The Alliance finally realized I’m a talent they can’t afford to waste,” he told her, looking all-too satisfied. “I’ve kinda been their errand boy for the past few months. At least they didn’t ground me like the last time you died. Haven’t been on solid ground for a few months.” 

“Lucky. I have, and I’m still not used to it,” she responded “So what are you going here now?” 

“As you know, I’m a luxury few can afford,” Joker boasted, eyeing Kaiden “but I can give a friends and family discount when a friend needs something delivered.” He grinned. “Just don’t ask where I got the ship. You’re not going to like the answer.” 

“I don’t like where this is going. What did you—” she began, her voice exasperated, until she looked up to a woman stepping out of the restroom. 

Her form was hunched. Tired. And broken. But she was alive, on solid ground, with her. She was there to open her arms, to hold her. She smiled. Opened her arms. This time, Shepard ran, not caring around the pain that shot up her leg. 

“Mom,” she choked, pressing her face into the jacket of Hannah’s uniform. 

She heard the click of Joker’s crutches on the floor, could sense Kaiden coming close. For a moment, none of them moved, none of them spoke. All that mattered was the woman, holding her mother, finally feeling whole again.


	28. Like Mother, Like Daughter

Being back at headquarters brought the familiar sensation of preparing for war. Not on a battlefield, no, but in a conference room. Any good solider knew both could be equally important, as mundane and senseless as the latter felt most of the time. 

Still, things had changed since she’d last been there. She wasn’t alone, kept in the dark, knowing they were living on borrowed time while humanity pissed around, making decisions that wouldn’t matter in two months anyway. She had Kaiden, Joker, her mother, all by her side. She glanced at them before heading into Hackett’s office. Kaiden took her hand, squeezed it. Her mother smiled, gave her that ‘go show them what you’re made of’ look she knew all too well. 

She hadn’t talked to her mother as much as she had wanted to.  
Not that she’d be able to catch her up on everything in one night anyway. Her mother had fallen asleep on the hotel couch before the food they’d ordered had even arrived, and when Jane tapped her awake, she quickly excused herself to her room and retired. She couldn’t blame her; she wasn’t certain what the time on the Kilimanjaro had been after all. But even after nearly ten hours of rest, her mother still looked exhausted, and she couldn’t help but wonder when the last time she had a good night’s sleep was. Her usually quick step was slowed to a snail’s pace, and every moment seemed like it caused her tremendous effort, although she’d refused to stay behind for the meeting. Had she been such a wreck when Kaiden had brought her home? No wonder he was so worried. 

Repairs were still underway. Most of the building was closed off, the distant sounds of drilling making any last-minute chances at conversation impossible. It felt a bit odd to be back, admittedly, walking freely back into a place that once held her prisoner. But it felt good to return on her own terms. 

Kaiden held open the door for them to Hackett’s office. It was dingy, ill-repaired. Some of the windows were still haphazardly fixed with a layer of flimsy plastic, making the view outside hazy and wavering in the wind. She was supposed to feel uneasy about this meeting, unsure, hesitant, but there was something comforting about seeing Hackett’s silhouette rifling through documents at his desk. Something soothing about the way he smiled at her. Maybe it just felt good to be needed. To know one’s place in the world. Maybe it would be nice to not think or make decisions, just follow orders and deliver, to do what was asked of her. 

It was odd seeing Hackett in person after months of seeing him only over vidcom. No matter how many times they’d met in person, she was always surprised how tall he was, vidcom didn’t do anyone’s height justice (she knew from the sheer amount of ‘shorter than I expected’ comments she got), but this time she was surprised by just how old he looked. Like he’d aged ten years since that last call with him. Not really surprising, all things considered. The war had aged everyone. But she’d spent years looking at Hackett’s face; in recruitment posters, vids, news reports, and until now his image was unchanging. Same sunken blue eyes, same grey hair. Like he’d been preserved once he’d reached his 60’s. But the Hackett before her was so suddenly and surprisingly human. 

He raised to his full height, smiled, scanned the line of decorated heroes before him. To everyone’s surprise, it was Hannah who stepped forward first, an uncharacteristic grin on her face. She crossed the room and gave Hackett’s hand a hardy shake, ending in an almost timid half-hug. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? It’s been too long, you old bastard.” 

Shepard’s eyes could have popped out of her head. As she glanced on either side of her, the feeling seemed mutual, but Joker recovered quickly, barely hiding a laugh behind a fake cough.  
“Commander, you didn’t tell me Hannah was coming,” his voice was stern, displeased, but his face told another story. In fact, it was probably the happiest she’d ever seen him.

“You know each other?” Jane couldn’t help but sputter. Hannah laughed.

“Haven’t you learned by now, all old soldiers know each other,” she answered, smiling at her daughter. “Remember when I told you I served with Anderson? Meet our captain. Old as hell then, old as hell now.”

“And my young Commander, Hannah. Stubborn as hell then, stubborn as hell now,” Hackett answered with a smile. “I’m glad you’re still alive. Probably the only ones left from the Moher. Couldn’t afford to lose another one, no matter how much of a pain in my ass you all were.”  
Hannah nodded, quietly, and there was a brief moment of acknowledgment. For the first time, Shepard felt a pang of loss for Hannah. Perhaps losing her crew and everything she’d known hasn’t been so sudden, not like Akuze, where everything was gone so quickly it was hard to make sense of it all. And perhaps it wasn’t like waking up dead to find everyone you loved drifted into the far reaches of the universe. But perhaps this was more painful, in a way, seeing a familiar name on the news, finding out they didn’t make it. Watching your wife go off on a routine mission, not knowing it would be the last time you saw her alive, while you played with your students in the yard, not knowing her ship was going down in flames. She’d watched helplessly as those people had drifted apart, until now, none of them were left. She had the urge to reach for Kaiden’s hand, but was unsure of the repercussions of such a gesture. That couldn’t be her fate too, could it? 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Shepard finally spoke after a respectful amount of time had passed. Hannah’s head snapped up, as if she’d been woken from a trance, immediately back to business. How very Shepard of her, Jane couldn’t help but think. “But I was under the impression that the reason you called me was urgent.” 

“Yes, my apologies,” Hackett cleared his throat, returning to the military sternness that Shepard knew all-too-well. “While this isn’t exactly an Alliance matter, tending to the task is in the best interest of maintaining humanity’s allies, and keeping the temporary galactic peace you’ve established not-so-temporary. Consider it an intersection of your Alliance duties and your duties as a spectre.” 

“It’s the Krogan. They’ve requested aid on Tuchanka. The council passed this info to us on your behalf, assuming the rumors of your survival were true.” 

“Let me guess. The council won’t official do anything, so it’s my problem now?” Shepard couldn’t help but smile. The more things change…

“Partially. The Krogan representative said he’d only speak to you.” 

“Wrex?” 

“Even after the council insisted you were dead, he said to meet him on Tuchanka.”  
“Definitely Wrex,” Kaiden echoed. 

“Any idea what he wants?” 

“None. But he said it was a threat to his people’s future, and Shepard was the only one he could trust,” Hackett continued “branded it as a diplomatic mission, but it’s still Tuchanka.” 

“So bring a shotgun?” Joker commented “or ten?” 

“If they want a Shepard, we’ll give them two,” Hannah grinned, squeezing her daughters shoulder with a confident grin. “They won’t even know what hit ‘em.” 

“Hannah.” Hackett cleared his throat, and her smile wavered. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” 

The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Hannah narrowed her eyes. Crossed her arms. So that’s where Jane got it from, Kaiden noted. It’d be almost funny if the air in the room hadn’t frozen solid. “Am I not free to go, Admiral? I’d like to make sure my daughter is safe.”  
“You didn’t even keep yourself safe.” 

“What are you implying?”

“Did something happen?” Shepard blurted, interrupting the bickering. Hannah blew her bangs out of her face and turned away, her face slightly pink. “Mom? What happened?” 

“Your mother was nearly killed. Not even a week ago,” Hackett answered. Hannah opened her mouth to offer a retort, but closed it quickly. “She was discharged and told to go home. Not here.”

Shepard’s brows knitted together in a look of frustration, hurt, maybe even fear. As bad as he felt, Kaiden couldn’t help but think that maybe now she’d understand how he felt every time she recklessly threw herself into danger. “Mom? What happened?” 

Hannah shook her head. Refused to look at her daughter. “It was nothing. We…had a small run-in with Cerberus.” 

“Cerberus? What would they want with you?” 

“Hell if I know,” she shrugged, let her shoulders drop. “They tried to take my ship, my men, and so I did what I had to. That’ll teach them to mess with my baby.” 

“You got shot?” 

“Went right though my shields,” she grimaced, her hand unconsciously moving over her chest. Things were starting to make more sense now. Jane had never known her mother to hand over charge of her crew for anything, and she’d seen her mother in action; she fought with the ferocity of a woman twenty years younger. It explained the sudden slowness to her as well. “Just one hit. I got them back.” 

“One hit with a shotgun. You should be _dead_ ,” Anderson emphasized. “I need you on earth, Hannah. You know why.” Hannah’s eyes locked on Hackett’s, angry, betrayed. She didn’t even look at her daughter when she finally spoke. 

“You didn’t tell me,” she sputtered. She wanted to sound angrier than she did, but the hurt broke though. “Did she tell you?” She turned to Kaiden, her eyes wide. He shook his head, and she turned back to her mother. “Why would you hide this from me?”

The silence that followed was deafening, but you could practically hear the electricity crack as their eyes met. Kaiden placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder, but their eye contact did not budge. 

“Maybe we should give you two some space?” He glanced up at Hackett, who nodded, and the three men shuffled awkwardly from the room. Even as the door shut behind them with a resounding thud, neither the tension nor the silence broke. 

“How serious was it?” She bit her lip, trying to stop it from trembling. “Be honest.” 

Hannah sighed, her shoulders finally falling. It was like watching a balloon deflate, the way she sunk into a nearby chair you’d swear she’d been on her feet for days, and only now finally found rest. Had she really been just barely holding herself together, all this time? 

“It was bad,” she said, solemnly, quietly. 

Hannah wasn’t exactly an optimist, but she knew enough to call a spade a spade. “How bad?” 

She pressed her face into her hand, closed her eyes. Jane couldn’t tell if she was deliberately avoiding her gaze, or if she really was that defeated. “Doc said I should have been dead before I hit the ground.” She shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. “Had to pull at least four of my men to donate blood, or I would have been a goner. Maybe wouldn’t have been as serious if they could have rushed me to the Citadel, but— “she shrugged and gestured in no particular direction. 

Jane swallowed. “You could have died.” She was ready now, her voice flat, devoid of feeling. She cared, of course she did, so much that it burned within her like a fever, but she knew better than to air her feelings out, not when there was so much at stake. “You could have died, and I would have been the last to know.” 

“You had enough to worry about.” 

“You’ve never bullshitted me before,” she retorted. “We’ve always been honest with each other. Why hide this?” 

“Oh, because you’ve always been one-hundred with me?” Hannah looked up, her eyes electric, her tone suddenly stern. “I can’t even comprehend the danger you keep putting yourself in, and you barely tell me anything.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Like hell I’m going to let anything stop me from following you into whatever self-destructive nonsense you’re involved with now.” 

“And what were you going to do? Die from an infection the second we reach Tuchanka?” She was yelling now. When had she started yelling? 

“If that’s what it takes to make sure you get home? Then yeah. I will,” she snapped, the silence that followed awkward and clear. Hannah closed her eyes again, pressed her face to her palm. “When are you going to get it through your head that you’re all I have left? My family is gone. My wife is gone. If you die…what am I going to do? Keep fighting until it kills me? Rot away in a retirement home?” Was she about to cry? She looked as if she were about to cry. Jane wanted to feel bad, she really did. It was a rare day in hell to see Hannah so upset, but she was still too worked up to care, as much as she hated to admit it. “I lost my chance at a happy ending. And I’ll die before I let you throw yours away _again_.” 

“I can take care of myself. You know that better than anyone.” 

“Of course I do. But I’ve buried my child, the most capable solider I’ve ever known, twice now.” Her eyes were large, pleading. Jane already knew what she was being asked to do. “You can’t imagine what that feels like. Don’t make me do that again.” 

“So what do you want me to do?” 

“Stay. Live your life,” she commanded. It wasn’t the first time Jane saw that fire, that passion that made people follow her, but it was a reminder of it. Perhaps they were not connected by blood, but in that moment, it was like looking into a mirror. Were they really that much alike? “It doesn’t always have to be you.” 

_But they had asked for her. But they trusted her. But she had promised them_. How did she not understand that, after how many decades of service? “But it does,” she responded. Of course, she’d been lying to herself the whole time. The decision had already been made, many many years ago, on that day on the Citadel, and Hannah had said it herself. _The only way out is forward. Carry on the mission. Dont stop for anything. Don’t look back or you’ll be lost_. “It has to be me. Someone else might get it wrong.” 

“Jane—“ 

“The krogan trust me.” She could hear her own voice growing distant, cold, the way it was after Akuze. But she couldn’t seem to make herself care, her vision narrowing and clarifying; nothing between her and her mission. Get the job done. That’s what she was here for. “I might be the only alien they’ve trusted in millennia. I won’t throw that away. I won’t be another person who turns their back on them.” 

“Jane—“ 

_I’m sorry._ She wanted to say it but she couldn’t, the words choked her on the way out, refused to leave her lips. “I’m going. I’ll be okay, I promise. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” 

“Wait, please—“ But she was out the door before her mother could continue, storming down the hall. 

She nearly made it to the front doors before Kaiden was there, hooking his hand around her elbow and spinning her around to face him. “Woah, woah, where’s the fire? What’s going on?” 

“I have to go,” she told him, coldly, her eyes on the floor. “You can’t ask me to ignore people who need me.

“Woah, okay, slow down, I didn’t ask you to ignore _anything_. What happened? Are you okay?” He smiled, but for once, it didn’t melt the cold exterior, even as she stared into the warmth of his eyes. 

“You don’t have to go,” she told him. “I don’t want to take you away from your mom.” 

“Okay, this is escalating really quickly,” he raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide. “We need to talk about this, obviously, but I told you. You go, I go. We’re a package deal.” 

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Trust me, I know,” he took her hand, running his fingers across hers. “But I have seen you cook, and it’s my moral obligation to not allow you to continue eating that RTE crap I’ve seen you stomach.” This, finally, got a smile out of her. Blink, and you’d miss it, but still there. 

“So Tuchanka, huh? Why don’t we go anywhere nice?” He shook his head, smiled, and finally she could feel the warmth again. “You owe me big time after this, you know. As in, when we get back, a whole week on the English Coast. And you’re turning off your emails. The whole time.” 

“Deal,” she told him, and he pressed a kiss into the top of her head, his breath tickling her scalp.  
It has to be me, she reminded herself. 

Did she even believe that anymore?


	29. Not All is Lost

“The _Calliope_? Seriously? The _Calliope_?” 

Joker was ranting two steps ahead on them on the way to the docks, gesturing so wildly Shepard thought on several occasions he’d trip himself on his crutches. Kaiden and her followed closely behind, only half-listening, their few belongings packed into footlockers. Dusk was spilling though the windows and no one had seen Hannah since their argument — not even Hackett. 

“That thing is older than most Salarians. A prothean could have built it. It has a series three mass effect core. They have to joking. _Series three_?” 

“It was updated five years ago, Joker,” Kaiden argued back in a dismissive tone, obviously paying a lot more attention to him than she was. She glanced around, searching for a flash of Military blue. She hadn’t left, had she? Without saying goodbye? “It’ll be fine.” 

“Fine? Do you have any idea how much drift this thing is going to have?” He shook his head. “It’s gonna butcher my flight time record. It’ll take us three days to reach Tuchanka.” 

“Three days?” Shepard questioned, still only half-listening. “I thought this was an emergency.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you, Commander. If it was an emergency, they wouldn’t give us a fifty-year-old ship!” 

Kaiden glanced at her with a smirk, shook his head. “One hundred credits say you can’t do it it two.” 

“Make it two and you’re on, Alenko.” 

“Don’t crash the ship,” Shepard deadpanned “even if it is old and shitty.” 

“I promise efficiency. You’ll get there alive and that’s all that matters.” 

“You’re being such a baby. What’s the matter? Best pilot in the fleet can’t handle a little rust?” Kaiden mocked. Joker shook his head, mumbling expletives under his breath as he passed Hackett wordlessly and boarded. Hackett shook his head in confusion as he boarded the admittedly small and old-looking vessel. 

“Have you seen Hannah?” Shepard asked as they approached, still glancing around. 

Hackett shook his head. “No, but she’s always been stubborn. I’m sure she’ll call as soon—“ 

“Jane!” Shepard’s head whipped around, searching for the source of her mother’s voice. “Jane! Please wait!” 

Her huddled form appeared from behind a cluster of dock workers. She seemed small now, winced as she walked, no longer trying to hide her injury. Before Jane could say anything, her mother had wrapped her arms around her daughter tightly, clinging to her as Shepard dropped her bags to receive her embrace. 

“I’m sorry.” She pressed her face into her daughter’s uniform, inhaling deeply, as if trying desperately to take in every aspect of her daughter’s presence. “For everything.” 

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” Shepard swallowed. “I didn’t want to leave things like that…I couldn’t find you.” 

Hannah shook her head, hands still balled around the fabric of her child’s jacket. “This is all my fault.”

“Mom—“ 

“I never let you be a child,” she continued, her voice barely loud enough to compete with the hustle and bustle of the docs. “Everything was work, and fighting…it’s no wonder you can’t let go.” 

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Shepard wished she could see her mother’s face, but she seemed to be deliberately hiding it in her shoulder, resting to let go. “I trained you. I pushed you to join the Alliance. I never gave you a choice, and now you feel like you have none.” 

“You saved me from life on the streets. I would be dead if you hadn’t found me.” 

“And you’ll die if you keep going like this,” she said in her ear. “I’ve killed you either way. Maybe just bought you a few years…but…” she inhaled sharply, collecting her thoughts. “I did this to you. I treated you like a solider when I should have treated you like a daughter. I did the very thing my mother did to me, the thing I promised I’d never do to my own child—“ she cut off, suddenly, holding her tighter, hand creeping along her neck, as if afraid she’d pry herself away. “Anna should have been the one to raise you, not me. I just screw up every good thing that comes my way.” 

“Yeah. Well. Guess I get that from you,” she sighed, glancing up at Kaiden, who was looking at her with concern and confusion. “God knows how I’ve hung on to half the things I have.” 

“I’m not going to try to change your mind about this. I know I can’t,” suddenly, she separated from her, still gripping tightly onto her shoulders, looking into her daughter’s eyes. “But please, be careful. For me. For once in your life remember there are people out there who lose sleep over you.” 

“I’m always careful,” she told her, brushing a tear off her mother’s reddened face. “You’re warm. You should be home. Won’t be around much longer to nag me if you don’t take care of yourself.” 

“We’re a hard lot to kill.” She smiled, sadly, hugged her daughter one last time before finally letting her go with one final _I love you_. As they parted, she exchanged a curt not in Kaiden’s direction. “Major.” 

“Really? Don’t pretend you don’t like me, Hannah. I know the truth.” He grinned, reached out a hand, a gesture of faith. She studied him for a a very long time before she took it, giving it a very short and formal shake. “Come on, don’t be like that. I saved the audio from the last time we spoke, you know.” 

“What audio?” An evil grin spread across Shepard’s face. Someone with leverage on Admiral Hannah Shepard. That was a new one. Full of surprises, that’s one of the things she could never get enough of when it came to Kaiden. 

Kaiden cracked a smile. She always loved the way his smile leaned to one side of his face, the way he tilted his head, as if to compensate for it. “Something about…I’ve never seen my daughter actually happy until she met you? Eternal gratitude?” Hannah crossed her arms, scowling at him. Shepard wished she had a camera; the mental picture wasn’t nearly good enough. “You know what? Why don’t I just play it, refresh my memory—“ 

“You test me every day, Alenko.” 

“Love you too, mom!” 

They parted, Shepard refusing to relinquish her view of Hannah until the doors closed behind them. Kaiden snaked am arm around her waist, protectively, probably trying to keep her from running into a wall as her eyes were fixed behind her. Hackett was saluting, Hannah waving, longing and sorrow and something Shepard couldn’t describe painted on her face. She refused to look away until the doors were shut, and the engines came to life with a him. 

“Ready?” Kaiden asked as darkness engulfed them, the airlock hissing as it sealed. He pulled her close, his voice low.

“As I’ll ever be.” 

*****

There was no deluding herself into thinking her old life had returned. 

The ship was small, and as someone who spent the vast majority of their life on ships or dingy shoebox city apartments, she would know. There was no sparkling galaxy map, no high-tech CIC, no leather seats (as Joker was quick to point out). They took off with a lurch, nearly toppling Shepard. The Normandy, in all its lives, had been too high-tech for such clunkiness. Even the ground under them felt off, like a constant hum, much more noticeable than it had been on the Normandy. Or maybe she’d just gotten soft, Shepard told herself, all those weeks on solid ground. Spoiled by non-generated gravity. 

“Jesus, Joker. You must be getting rusty,” Kaiden ribbed at him soon after takeoff, still stumbling after the rough takeoff. “You’re lucky we’re in the deep recesses of space and can’t get a traffic ticket.” 

“It’s an old model, like driving an old school bus.” 

“It’s not that old.” 

“Is too.” 

“Children, easy way to settle this,” Shepard grinned “EDI, how old is the Calliope?” No answer. “EDI?” 

“Uh, Commander? EDI’s not here.” 

“What do you mean she’s not here? I heard her earlier.” 

“Yeah, well, her processing core isn’t exactly going to fit in this clown car, and we’re a bit out of her mobile range,” Joker snapped. “She stayed behind. Trust me, wasn’t my choice. I don’t trust any of those morons in engineering not to fry her like an egg.” 

“Jesus, Joker, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, well, so am I. You owe me a solid.” 

“Oh, I owe you several solids,” she smiled. Maybe things weren’t like the old days, but at least they were together, right? And that’s what made the Normandy. The people, not the fancy seats. “I’m going to go put my stuff in my quarters, you coming?” She reached out her hand, but Kaiden either didn’t see it, or ignored it. 

“I’ll be there in a second. I should stay for a second just in case Joker forgets where the breaks are.” 

She hears them squabble as she makes her way down to the navigation deck. It was a small crew, a fraction of what the Normandy had, mostly young faces, she realized. Some of them didn’t even salute as she passed, they stared, dumbfounded, and the first thing Shepard did when she reached her cabin was check to see if there was anything on her face in the tiny bathroom mirror. _It’s because you’re a ghost, idiot_ , she told herself, shaking her head. Not every day you see a dead woman walking. 

Her quarters were almost as small as they were on the Normandy before it was placed in her charge, hardly any walking room, certainly not streamlined and luxurious as what Cerberus had deemed necessary. There was a small space above her desk, where she placed the Normandy model Kaiden had gotten her. For a moment, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. Just like old times. She turned to the shelf by the bathroom, reaching out to where she’d kept her hamster, but found it empty. There was no shelf there, no little ball of fur, chittering away with its cheeks full of seeds. Poor thing. He probably hadn’t been so lucky this time, but she liked to imagine he’d gotten out somehow, unrealistic as that might be. 

She turned her attention to her desk, rubbing the sides of her neck, the way Chakwas had always told her to do when she was giving herself a tension headache again. It really was all gone, wasn’t it? The life she’d known for so many years. Maybe her crew hadn’t met a bloody demise like last time, but they’d just as easily spread like dust in the wind. Every friendly face, ever person who’d ever believed in her, every ride-or-die she had, gone in the blink of an eye. The worst part was that she couldn’t even be angry, she would have done the same thing, found something to occupy herself before the ruble had even cleared. Wasn’t that what she was doing now, zooming across the galaxy instead of contacting the people who’d had her back all these years? Would they even want anything to do with her anymore? She had nothing to offer them anymore, their work was done it seemed. She couldn’t even remember her final moments on the Normandy, her final days with her compatriots. No final goodbye to the ship that had been her home, that had brought them all together. 

She ran a hand though her hair, forced herself to tear herself from those thoughts. No looking back, keep going forward. There was work to be done. She pulled up a datapad at her desk and started taking inventory of her ship. Escape pods on the port and starboard, accessed though the lower desk. Very small, defense-only seemingly, guns below the stern (Garrus would be having a conniption, she noted). If anything happened, there was an escape ladder from her quarters to the main deck. If anything happened it wouldn’t take her long to grab Joker and go. She’d have to test it and—

The whirr of the doors opening startled her out of her thoughts, nearly making her jump as she whipped around. Kaiden stood in the doorway, looking confused, and she took a deep breath, turning back to her datapad. She knew Kaiden was coming right behind her, who did she think it was? 

“Am I interrupting something?” He came up behind her, hand brushing the small of her back and she continued her task, biting her lip. “You seem worried. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” she responded, not really thinking about the question. She shrugged, leaned against her desk. Things were never going to be the same again, would they? Those years of her life, those moments that defined her, those people who made her feel whole and part of something, part of a family…gone. Maybe she’d see them again, but it would never be the same, and she couldn’t help but be hit with a pang of loss for what she had; feeling like she was part of something, like everyone had her back, like she was needed, like she was useful.   
“Just…overthinking things.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” He smiled, pulled her close, and this seemed to dispel some of the tension within her. No, she had to remind herself. The most important things remained. This was not Akuze. This was not the first Normandy. Not all was lost. She was not alone. 

“No,” she assured him, tearing herself away from her racing thoughts of escape routes and all the reasons she’d need them. “Being here is enough.”


	30. A Future for the Krogan

On Earth, being a light sleeper wasn’t much of an option. 

When Shepard was young, well, you just knew better than to let your guard down. The nights she’d slept soundly were vivid in her memory; times when she didn’t sleep with a knife under her pillow, knowing full well the danger if someone’s boyfriend or brother came home and found a helpless sleeping girl. Times when she didn’t sleep curled around her backpack, guarding what little she had with her tiny form. 

Over the years, she’d softened a bit. Knew that her fellow marines had her back, were watching, would wake her if danger neared. Kaiden could always tell when she was in a bad headspace from the way she slept. Whether she was reverting to that place of fear, curled like a cat, protecting herself, or whether she let herself sleep comfortably, was always a good indication of where she was at. 

She fell surprisingly hard that night, her face buried in a pillow, solid and sound. Perhaps she’d been right about being lulled to sleep by the sounds of a ship, that earth was just too silent, too spontaneously noisy.

He stepped out. Just a moment to himself. A moment to take it all in, to think.   
He kissed the top of her head before he left, no response, and stepped out of the room.  
She woke to a dimly lit room. The orange glow of a datapad. Someone standing at the foot of her bed. Startled, she kicked the covers off her legs. Sat up, ready to spring, eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. A silhouette of a tall woman, her hair glowing gold from the light, a fuzzy around her thin face. Hannah? 

_Mom?_ She tried to speak, but there was no noise, words hissing out from her throat as if parched. 

She shook her head, eyes wide, brows knitted together. She opens her mouth to say something, but there was a bang, and Shepard flinched, her face spattered with blood. Hannah clutched her throat, gasping, dying, wordless, weightless, darkness spewing from her chest. She crumpled like she was made of nothing. Sinking like stone to the floor. Shepard reached, her mouth open to scream, but nothing escaped (or does it? Perhaps her ears are still ringing?) Footsteps, heavy on the metal floor, tinged with the wetness of pooling blood, moving toward her, broad shoulders, incomprehensible, inhuman, glow of blue eyes, moving closer and closer, as if to shoot at point-blank range. She tried to run but her limbs fail her, falling out from under her, limp, lifeless (had she always been this weak? Had she been drugged?), she fell to the ground with a thud, kicking, screaming, as she believed, for her life. 

She woke in a tangle of blankets. Alone. Freezing cold. Throat throbbing as if raw from screaming. There is no Hannah. There is no blood. Just the glow of orange, bright red scratch marks from drawing her nails across her arms, and the sound of her own pathetic and panicked breathing. 

***********

“This is your pilot speaking; we will begin our descent on the lovely Tuchanka. The weather is a cool 36 degrees, please fasten your seatbelts as I’m not sure landing gear was invented when this rust bucket was built.” 

“Oh, fuck no,” Shepard shook her head, looking up from where she was leaving up her boots. Kaiden hadn’t returned yet. Nothing to worry about, she told herself. He’s fine. It’s a small ship. He probably stepped out for something. He’s okay. You’re being paranoid, you’re being—

She stood, trying to shake the thoughts from her head, stopping the spiral that was quickly coiling around her throat. She still felt tired, shaken, like her insides were quivering. There was no sleep to be had after her episode, as tired as her body was. Even if she could have slept, part of her was too afraid. What if it wasn’t just a night terror? What if it was real, a premonition of what was to come? She’d seen similar visions after the beacon on Eden Prime. Who’s to say what she saw wasn’t more of the truth? 

Except this was the past, not the future. Hannah had been shot, yes, but she was alive. She was on Earth. Right? 

Focus. She stumbled to the bathroom, washed her face in the tiny sink. It was one of those days, she could feel it in her bones. It was hard to reconcile the woman she pictured in her mind with the woman in the mirror. She was no longer a woman of just twenty-three years, two black eyes and a broken mind, scribbling notes to herself to remember what day it was. But when had her hair gotten so long? When had she gotten wrinkles around her mouth? When had she started going grey around her temple? The therapist she was required to see after Akuze encouraged her to express more individuality. Change her hair, do her makeup, mark herself in some way to separate the damaged image of herself from the healing one. It hasn’t worked, but the haircut brought a welcome breeze to her neck. 

There was a myriad of lost toiletries behind the mirror: men’s razors, a comb, shaving cream. Finally she found what looked like kitchen scissors, but they’d have to do. She took a moment to measure, make sure she’d still be able to fit it into a tuft of a ponytail behind her head, and made her first cut. Red strands quickly littered the bathroom floor, and she was quietly thankful that curly hair was forgiving when it came to rough edges. 

Just as she was running her fingers though her new cut, she heard the door open and close, footsteps drawing near. Her heart gave a heavy, resounding thump, and for a moment she froze. 

“Jane?” Kaiden’s voice. Her stance viably softened. “You in here?” 

“Bathroom,” she responded, sighing and leaving the scissors on the sink. She’d clean up when she got back, although she knew she’d regret the decision later, when she returned exhausted and sweating from the Tuchanka heat. Brushing the last few strands from her shoulders, she stepped into the bedroom, where Kaiden was already dressed. He relaxed when he saw her, his face visibly softening. “Does my hair look even?” She asked. It already felt good to have it off her shoulders, and she shook it out for him, smiling. 

“I think so, but I’m not an expert,” he ran his fingers through it, and she closed her eyes, relishing the touch, its brevity, the way his fingers didn’t tangle at the end. “You couldn’t have gotten it cut on earth?” 

“I forgot how hot Tuchanka is.” That was it, right? No need for another layer on your back. Pure practicality. 

“You look just like when we first met,” he told her as she sat on the edge of the bed, lacing up her boots. Her motor skills were better, her noted, his heart filling with warmth. Perhaps she hadn’t realized the progress she made, but he had. He could remember how she struggled; with her hair, her shoes. How frustrated she got when her hands didn’t seem to cooperate with her brain. But she laced up her boots with the efficiency of a solider. If only there was a way to bring it up without praising his galaxy-saving fiancé for tying her own shoes. Yeah, he decided, there was no way to say that in a way that would end well. 

“That a good thing?” 

“I mean, I thought you were just as beautiful back then. Just…a little more terrifying?” 

“You were scared of me?” She scoffed. 

“At first. But in a sexy way, if it’s any consolation.” 

Shepard shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You really know how to sweet-talk a woman. I take it you like it then?” 

“I like you,” he gushed, pulling her close as they walked. 

She laughed, pull away. “Gross. You like me?” 

“We’re engaged.” 

“Shhh,” she shook her head, “I didn’t tell Joker yet.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he’d be pissed if he’s not your best man,” she rolled her eyes “and I’m not gonna break it to him that we’re having a court-house wedding.” 

“Good point. Although him and Garrus are going to duke it out to be the witness, and I don’t feel like picking bone fragments off the floor.” 

“You underestimate Joker. He’s fragile but he’s a wily one.” 

In the cargo bay, Shepard was pleased to find a new set of her armor ready, new and polished, just for her, that familiar red stride down the left arm. Putting it on filled a hole she didn’t know was empty, as if she’d been missing on organ, and could finally breathe again. It felt good. It felt safe.

Kaiden could practically see the switch flip the second she held her helmet in her hands. She was no longer unsure of herself, questioning, her expressions soft and warm. It was like looking at a mask of the woman he loved; her expression set and stoic, determined, self-assured. It wasn’t anything he hasn’t seen before; this was who she was to the Alliance. To her team. To her commanding officers. Never showing emotion, never giving up, always asking what more she could do for the cause. Two sides of the same coin. He knew the other was just around the corner, just out of view, but the difference was stark in contrast. It was as if the woman in their bedroom, the one giggled when her face touched his stubble, the one whose face lit up at the sight of her ship in miniature, was wiped away completely. She was just under the surface, Kaiden knew, but few knew that. It had taken him months, as a new recruit, to even catch a glance of her softer side. Even he didn’t know which one she considered her true self. 

You’d never guess the woman walking next to him had been in a coma for over a month, had struggled to even brush her own hair not too long ago. Her shoulders were broad, strong, returning to the stride of a solider with ease. She didn’t flinch at the rough landing, didn’t even pause to give Joker a hard time about it, or react at all as the heat and the dust spewed into their faces as they exited the airlock. He could see now why she fit in so well with the krogan. As little as she was, it was hardly the first thing you noticed. Her presence was bigger than any of the males lined up around the docks, falling into a hush as they passed. 

Tuchanka was, well, Tuchanka. Even if it had been hit as hard as Earth during the invasion, there wasn’t much else that could change. A world depicted in sepia. Hot, dingy, hostile. At least the krogan seemed to have an idea of who was stepping off their port, their expressions maybe weren’t the most readable to humans, but he thought he saw a flicker of recognition as their eyes met the red stripe on her shoulder. He hoped he wasn’t imagining it; he didn’t like their chances if they were going to have to fight their way out of there. 

Relief came quickly. Just outside the makeshift docs, Kaiden spotted the red scratched carapace of Shepard’s old friend. She popped her helmet off with a hiss, picking up her pace to meet him, where his arms opened in an expression of delight. Kaiden couldn’t help but sigh a breath of relief. 

“Shepard!” He called, shoving past the pack of males that had surrounded him. Jane smiled, reaching out her hand for his. The delight on his face was unmistakable, even across species. “I knew you were too stubborn to die.” 

“Kill me once, shame on you. Kill me twice, shame on me.” 

Wrex laughed, that dry, crackling voice booming, echoing around the ruble. Shepard may have seemed occupied, but he knew she was calculating the terrain. They were quickly being surrounded, a crowd forming. If it made her nervous, she didn’t show it. She never did. 

“See, this is why I like you. I call you for a diplomatic mission, you show up armed to the teeth.” 

“Because I speak krogan, Wrex.” 

He laughed again. The circle was closing in, he saw Shepard’s eyes dart side to side. Still calm, but increasingly aware. “What do you need from me?” 

His expression wavered, turned serious. That’s when Kaiden began to notice; it wasn’t just males in the crowd. It was speckled with females, their dark robes matte under the beating sun, delicate metal embellishments blinding. What was going on? 

“The future of our people is in danger, Shepard.” 

“Bakara.” Shepard’s eyes crinkled as the female made her way through the crowd, her steps level over the terrain, elegant, almost. Her purple robes fluttered by her feet, dusty and torn at the edges, curving around something across her chest. Something stirred. A child? Shepard’s eyes flicked to it, but stayed determinedly on the krogan Kaiden had only ever known as Eve. It was hard not to stare. After all, he would guess they were some of the few outsiders to ever see krogan children. 

Bakara’s eyes softened, reading Shepard’s expression, clearly trying not to stare. “You can look at them, you know,” she told her in a low voice. “One of them bears your name, after all. The eldest.” 

Shepard glanced at her, just for a moment, her eyes swelling with an unreadable expression. She smiled, nervously, stepping forward to peer peer into the papoose. Two small faced peeked out. They were cuter than she expected; large, dark, eyes. Smooth backs, scaled, but completely vulnerable compared to the males, with short, stubby legs and arms. They couldn’t have been much bigger than a human infant, surprisingly, and their faces were tinged with bright green. One was asleep, while the others eyes were widened, curious. They reached up, perhaps in an attempt to touch her bright red hair. Shepard lowered her head, allowing the child to touch it, her head jerking violently as the child gripped it and tugged with surprising strength. She couldn’t help but laugh, not because it was funny, but because there was so much joy within her, it had nowhere else to go but out. When she finally gained control of herself again, she peered up at Bakara. 

“They’re yours?” Bakara nodded, folding her hands in front of her as Shepard’s face swelled with…what was it, pride? Her throat felt tight and hot, but not from sadness, from something she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was just knowing that someone’s life was better because of her. That it had had been worth it. It was more than being told thank you, being told she’d done a good job. It was seeing her legacy with her own eyes. Progress. Growth. “Twins?” 

Bakara nodded. “One male. One female.” She confirmed. “Mordin.” Wrex grumbled, and Bakara shot him a glance. “And Shepard.” 

“It’s…an honor. One that I don’t take lightly. Thank you.” She took a moment, composed herself the best she could, confused by her own emotions. Kaiden’s cousin had her name as well, and if Joy was to be believed, so would millions of other children. But this was different, she told herself. She was an outsider. Trusted, even when everyone else in the galaxy had given the krogan every reason not to. Finally she’d done something right. Finally—

“We need your help,” Bakara said, finally, halting that train of thought. “We think someone is trying to hurt our children.” 

“What’s happening?”

“Someone has cut off our water supply,” Bakara replied, crossing her arms protectively over one of the twins, who was wiggling. “Normally, we’d move out of the valley, but we’ve been spotting suspicious movements in the surrounding mountains.” 

“Scouts,” Kaiden concluded. “You think they’re trying to drive you out and into an ambush.”   
“Don’t see what else it could be,” Wrex grumbled. “We’ve been holding out; it takes a lot more than a drought to kill us. But the kids…” 

Bakara shook her head, glancing down at her children. “They won’t make it much longer.”   
“I won’t let that happen,” Shepard promised, looking from one krogan to the other. “What do you need me to do?” 

“The tunnels you went it when you were hear last. They can give us safe passage. One of our elders can lead us to a safe haven on the other side,” Bakara explained. “You’ll guide the females and children. The males will travel above ground and keep the scouts busy, try to figure out who they are and what their intentions are.” 

“Sounds easy enough,” Kaiden remarked. “Nice go to be the distraction for once, eh, Shepard?” 

Bakara’s eyes narrowed on Kaiden. “I am sorry. You will be traveling apart from your mate, with the males.” 

“What?” Shepard glanced after Kaiden. Not exactly worry, per say, but concern on her face. “Why?” 

“They only trust you. You are a woman, just like them, one who has proven yourself a sister to our people.” She shook her head, glancing at Kaiden. “I’m sorry. I could not convince them. You will keep communications, of course, to ensure the females are not being targeted.”

Shepard nodded, but before she could speak, Kaiden gripped her elbow hard, pulling her closer to him. “Can we talk about this? In private?” Shepard’s eyes narrowed, and she glanced at the krogan. Nodded. Kaiden pulled her aside, trying to find somewhere relatively safe to talk, and the krogan parted for them, as if they were untouchable. He pulled her into a nearby alcove. “I don’t like this.” 

“You think I do?” She scoffed, shook her head. “What choice do we have?” 

“I won’t let them separate us again. We stay together.” 

“Kaiden, you’ll okay. I promise.” 

“I’m not worried about me.” 

Her brows knitted together, and she shook her head in annoyance. “I’ll be fine. I’m not the one with a target on my back.” 

“You’re not cleared for active duty. You’re still recovering—“ 

“Kaiden.” Her voice was soft. Warm. There she was, he thought. The woman who sat on the edge of her bed, her bare back arched, her hair glowing in the morning light. “I’m not worried about you. I know how strong you are, how capable you are. I know things have changed, but trust me. I know my limits. I will be okay. I promise you. It won’t be long.” 

Kaiden sighed. That was the core of it, wasn’t it? Did he trust her to know herself, know her limits. _You doubted her before. And it didn’t end well. You promised you’d never do that to her again._ “Okay,” he said, finally. “Okay.” 

“Okay what?” 

“I trust you,” he confirmed. “If you say you’ll be okay, I trust you. Just please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I never do anything stupid,” she grinned, kissing him one, tenderly, quickly. He wanted to grab her, hold her, forever, savor that moment. Too many times he hadn’t. Too many times those moments were almost their last. But she pulled away quickly, taking his head, leading him back to the crowd. “Come on. Quicker we get going, quicker we get home,” she told him. The softness melted away, back to the mask, back to the cold. 

She was commander Shepard, he had to remind himself. Savior, solider, survivor. 

He just hoped the last one hadn’t expired.


	31. United We Stand

The Krogan simply known as The Elder was waiting come dusk. While she, too, wore the disfiguring robes of her role, Shepard could see the edges of her carapace was an almost white-grey, the remaining red dulling. Krogans, she thought, must fade as the years go by, just like humans. Even her eyes, usually dark and beady, seemed softer with age, dark grey instead of black, more liquid than solid. She did not turn as Shepard approached, her back still facing her, so unlike any other Krogan she’d met, who never liked to take their eyes off an unknown. Even as the gravel crunched underfoot, she did not turn, and for a moment Shepard questioned if she was deaf. 

“So.” She finally spoke. Her voice, unlike the hands that were clutched around a knotted wooden crutch, was steady. She finally turned her head, just slightly, to observe the woman before her. Her eyes traveled from head to toe, searching for what, no one could guess. “You are the Shepherdess, are you not?” 

“Just Shepard,” she corrected. “Shepard’s my family name. Not unlike a clan name.” 

The Elder nodded, her eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to the barren landscape on the horizon. Although she could only see her eyes, they were more than expressive, although what the krogan was feeling was unreadable. “My niece has told me much about you, and I have seen your hand in my people’s future. _Ma’saol_. You have been a daughter to my kind. I never bore children of my own. I am grateful I will die knowing my people were given their choice back.” 

“You’re not dying yet,” she told her. “Your people still need you. I still need you.” She paused. How many times had she been told the same thing? Was it selfish? To keep an old woman from rest? To put so much on her shoulders? It wasn’t like they had much of a choice. “What was that word you said? The translator didn’t pick up.” 

“ _Ma’saol._ It is a name. An honorific. For you,” she nodded. “Difficult to explain, I won’t waste my numbered breaths trying. Wrex said you have traversed their tunnels before?” 

“Once,” she admitted “was luck over skill that got us out, and I’m not too keen to exit into an ambush.” 

“My mother was Elder before me, a midwife. She used the tunnels to travel from clan to clan safely, taught me about the way they say things used to be.” Her grip tightened on her staff, and finally she turned to look at Shepard, her eyes softer than most would probably expect from a krogan. “I have been told much about you and your people. I will admit, I have never left the sands of this planet, and only heard rumors. Not much positive, I’ll admit, before you. You are…remarkable. Probably the most notable warrior of your people, and a female at that. I am beginning to like your people more and more.” 

“I come from a long line of female warriors,” Shepard told her. Not entirely true, not by blood at least, but Hannah’s name was intertwined with the Alliance. “My mother’s been with the Alliance for decades, as was her wife, and her mother, and her mother.” 

She gave an approving grunt. “They died honorably?” 

Shepard nodded, knowing what this meant. “Yes. But my mother is still kicking. If she hadn’t been wounded on her last mission, she’d be here now.” 

“I think you will be more than enough,” The Elder agreed, glancing behind her toward the males, who’d gathered around Wrex, preparing themselves to leave. Kaiden had seemed to integrate as well as he could; he was next to Wrex, smiling about something, perhaps joking about old times. She was grateful for it. She missed Wrex, his bluntness, his loyalty. He was a part of her family, just as much as Joker and Kaiden and Garrus. “The bouncy-haired one is your mate, yes?” 

“He is,” Shepard agreed, smiling. He caught her eye, waved her over, probably to say goodbye. 

“And you fight well together?”

“We do,” Shepard agreed again. Wrex said something that caught Kaiden’s attention, and he turned briefly, smiling again. What she wouldn’t give for them all to be together again, working as a team. 

“Then I am grateful to the both of you,” The Elder said. “I suggest you go to him. We will depart soon.” 

******

The first few hours or so were uneventful. Boring, even, after those initial few minutes of terror as the darkness swallowed them whole. The cold was surprising. It was like diving into dark lake; the chill came suddenly, stark against the Tuchanka heat, and the walls seemed to eat up even sound waves. Their whole world was projected in the white light of her gun’s flashlight, and the thought of what they’d do if it were to go out had crossed her mind more than once, despite numerous backups. 

To their credit, the Krogan were model escortees. No complains, driven, refusing to stop for rest the majority of the times the offer was made. At the halfway point, The Elder has told her that the tunnels rose close enough to the surface that they’d most likely be able to signal the surface team for updates, meaning she’d be able to talk to Kaiden. She had anticipated this taking at least three days, considering they were moving with children, but it seemed as if they’d reach it in a just one at their current rate. 

Kaiden had seemed so worried as they departed, pressing a long kiss into his forehead before he went, refusing to let go. 

_“No dumb stunts? Okay?”_

_“When do I ever?” she smiled, turning to leave, but he held her for a just moment longer, taking her in; the way she smelled, the softness of her hair, the darkness of her eyes, the way he was reflected in them. “Hey, I’m the one who should be worried about you, remember? You’re the bait. I’m just spending a weekend with the girls.”_

_“Yeah,” he chucked, still not letting her go._

_She pressed a gloved hand to his face, kissed him, one last time. “Hey,” she said, softly, reassuring him. “I’ll check in with you soon. I promise.”_

_“Okay,” he breathed, “I love you.”_

_“I love you too. Be careful.”_

About twelve hours into the journey, The Elder stopped them for rest, placing a firm hand on Shepard’s shoulders. She nearly jumped at the interaction, turning to shine her flashlight directly into her face. She hardly reacted, but she looked worn. With her mind off the mission, Shepard herself could feel the ache of exhaustion creeping into her bones as well. 

Handing a small lamp on the cave wall, the women too to releasing their children from the bundles across their chests and backs. The room was soon filled with the chirping and buzzing of small children. Some were old enough to pull themselves onto unsteady legs, stumbling from their mothers’ grasps before they’d be picked up and drawn close. It was no wonder the women didn’t let their children explore, but the slightly older ones played together, climbing over each other, almost play-fighting. Shepard watched from a distance, leaned up against the wall with her rifle against her, observing, watching as mothers tore pieces of ration apart to give the young ones, watching with love as they ate ferociously. No one seemed to pay her any mind, which some might take as an insult, but it was almost sweet of them. Like she was a normal part of their clan, no more of a threat or an outsider and the rocks beneath them.   
Bakara made her way over soon enough, just as Shepard was failing to conceal a yawn. She straightened herself and stretched. In the darkness, she thought she could detect the ghost of a smile in the Krogan’s eyes. 

“I thought you might want to meet your namesake,” she said softly, unraveling the child from its cocoon. Shepard smiled, took the surprisingly heavy bundle from her arms. Perhaps she was a bit face-blind, but she swore this had been the child who’d pulled her hair earlier. Yes, it had to be. She had more green markings around her eyes than the other, more pale yellow around her ears. Shepard sat cross-legged, allowing the child to wiggle from her grasp, attempting to grasp onto the slick metal of her armor and stand. Much like human children, her legs were squishy, unstable, although much more developed than a human of the same age. Shepard smiled and grabbed the child under the armpits, raising her into the air, evoking peaks of laughter that pierced the quiet of the cave. She could feel a thousand pairs of eyes on her, watching as she playfully wrestled with the child. She was surprisingly strong, fascinated by her red hair; she had to pry her fingers apart to free herself. 

“She’s strong,” Shepard told her. She thought she saw Bakara beam with pride. 

“I should hope so. Do humans often name their children after others?” 

“All the time,” she answered, shaking her head. “I’ve been told Jane’s already set to come in as the number one girl’s name this year, and Shepard number three for boys. It’s kind of funny now that I think about it, I don’t think my mother put much thought into my name. Pretty sure Jane was an actress she liked or something.” 

Bakara nodded, acknowledging the shared knowledge. “Krogan do not do so quite as lightly. We prefer to give each child their own unique name. To carve their own path. If we name them after another, it means we hope they embody their spirit. That they have been dedicated to a higher cause. Their path set before them.” 

“What does that mean for your children?” 

“For Mordin?” She asked, smiling down at her younger child. “That he will be a friend to others, as he was to me. That he will be compassionate, kind. Go against the grain of what his sex would dictate, be something more.” 

“What about Shepard?” 

“She will be strong,” she doted, picking the child up into her arms, prompting a delighted squeal. “She will be a leader. A protector of our legacy. Of the legacy you fought to gift us.”   
Shepard smiled. As young as they were, she hated to pin expectations on them, but it seemed like they were already growing into their names. The younger one certainly was calm, content to watch his fierier sister, who was hanging off her mother’s arms like a jungle gym. She knew nothing about Krogan growth rates, but she hoped to at least live to see them into their later years. Perhaps see the kind of people they would eventually grow up to be. 

“That’s quite a high expectation to put on someone.” 

“You May see a burden, but I see a gift,” she responded with a frown. “For too long, we have been treated like savages, like monsters, nothing more. And so that is what we became. We have to expect better of our children, even if the world doesn’t.” 

“I think I understand,” Shepard agreed, feeling a bit better about the weight her name now carried. “On Earth, biotics like me and Kaiden aren’t exactly welcome anywhere but the military. We’re treated as dangerous. It’s no wonder most of us meet violent ends.”

“What a shame.” She shook her head disapprovingly, pulling her daughter off of her shoulder, where she was trying to climb. She didn’t doubt Krogan durability, but the height made her a bit nervous should the child fall. She was all smooth, no plates, just small discolored calluses where she assumed they would grow one day. “If it’s any consolation, I like who you have become. And not just because of what you’ve done for my people.”

“Thank you. That…means a lot. Coming from you.” 

“Even my aunt respects you, even if she doesn’t show it. You’re the first outsider she has ever trusted.” 

“The Elder is your aunt?” Bakara nodded. “Should have known. You sound alike.” 

“She raised me after my mother died. Perhaps males value blood, but to us females, we are all sisters,” the told her, glancing over her shoulder. The Elder was not resting like the other krogan. She watched, Shepard knew, from a vantage point, her arms crossed defensively over her staff. 

“Just like Hannah,” Shepard told her “she’s not my birth mother, she took me under her wing when I was a teenager. Raised me as her own.” 

“To be a warrior,” Bakara concluded, nodding. “Just as I was raised to be a Shamen. The more I speak with you, Commander, the more I realize how alike our people are. I hope we can continue to share moments like this with your people.”

“I do too,” she smiled, rolling away the tightness in her shoulders, rubbing at her heavy eyes. Earth life must have made her soft, she thought. Or maybe it was the heat followed by such damp and bitter cold, or that last night on the ship that had taken it out of her. Any other time, she could have gone so much longer without rest, but now, she was tired down to her bones. Before she could force herself back to attention, Bakara spoke again. 

“You should get some rest. Someone else can keep watch.” 

“What? I was sent to protect you,” she protested. “I’m fine.” 

“We’ve had little else to do but sit around and await our fate, we’re plenty rested. Should something happen, you will be the first to know. You’ll need your strength.” 

In a way, Bakara reminded her so much of Hannah. Warmth bleeding though practicality. No questions, just orders. It made things so much simpler, in a way. 

“Thank you. We should move out in a few hours.” 

She nodded. “Rest well, _ma’saol._ ” 

That name again, untranslatable. She wanted to ask, wanted to reach out, to keep her taking, but she was exhausted, and grateful to sink into a more comfortable position and close her eyes. 

Perhaps she slept with one eye open, but the discomfort was, well, comfortable. Like an old pair of shoes with the souls worn out. Perhaps her bed on earth was more luxurious, but it was unfamiliar. At least here she knew the threat was real, not just a figment of her imagination.


	32. Lost and Found

The camp behind her was a bustle of activity. Children playing, peals of laughter, the women chatting and sharing food made over the fire, all in high spirits. But Shepard was growing worried. 

They’d reached a small enclosure about a half an hour ago, some kind of courtyard, a circle that reached the surface, just barely. High stone walls, topped with the remains of a glass ceiling. The Elder assured them it was safe, that they’d be able to retreat back to the tunnels quickly should trouble arise, and that the walls were too tall for enemies to rappel down to them. But they were supposed to hear back from ground team an hour ago, and there had been no word. She was pacing, fuddling with her Omni-tool, trying to find a signal. The heat was getting to her, making her temper short, and if she was being honest the cries of the children were getting on her nerves. It was in diplomacy’s best interest that she kept a distance before she snapped at someone. 

“Shepard.” Someone called her, but she chose to ignore it. Anger was rising like fire in her chest, fuming like smoke behind her. She pretended not to hear. “Shepard.” A heavy hand on her shoulder. She refused to turn to face Bakara. Continued fiddling with her Omni. “Your mate is more than capable. He is fine. I am sure of it.” 

She whipped around to face her, intending to hit her with a glare, but the moment she made eye contact it all came apart. Something caught in her throat. Her eyes watered. She tried to hide her face but it was too late, she couldn’t take it anymore. Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with her? None of this was like her at all. Fear had always made her stronger, more determined, more focused and driven. But recently she felt like a fucking puddle. Helpless. Weak. She wished she could say it just made her angry but it didn’t. It just made her feel small. 

“I know.” She hated the way her voice trembled. Wiped at her eyes. Tried not to show how bad she was trembling. “I’m okay. I’m just…worried. Kaiden is nothing but punctual.” 

“He’s with Wrex. Timing has never been his strong suit,” she reassured her with a tone of annoyance. “Come. Pacing does nothing for you. The children love stories. And I’m certain you have some good ones.”

***

“And you went through it? The Omega-4 Relay? By yourself?” 

Shepard laughed at the exasperated faced around her. Shook her head. “God, no, not by myself. My pilot would kill me if I ever got behind the helm. We wouldn’t have made it out of the Citadel harbor if I had been.” 

“That is…amazing. That you all made it out alive.” 

“You’re telling me. I can hardly believe it, and I was there.” There was a pause, and she glanced at her Omni-tool. Kaiden was now forty-seven minutes behind. Anxiety crept across her skin like spiders, making her hair stand on end. A hand encompassed her wrist, placing it down. Bakara. She took a deep breath. 

“Surely that can’t be all? What of the reaper you found? What happened to it?” One of the younger females, the one with seemingly endless questions, asked. She still had that tinge of green around her eyes, just barely, only visible in certain light, the betrayed her age. Shepard wondered if she would be considered a teenager in human years. 

“We destroyed it,” she admitted. “Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea, but we couldn’t risk it falling into Cerberus’s hands.” She couldn’t tell if the women were listening intently, or judging her. Probably she was being paranoid. Usually, she had to justify every last choice she made, and was scrutinized for every move. “It was probably for the best in the long run, considering they ended up biting us all in the ass later.” And now, she remembered. She didn’t have the mental space to consider what they’d wanted with her mother or her ship, but it lingered in the back of her mind. Guess blowing up the reapers didn’t wipe all her problems away after all. 

“But—didn’t they bring you back from the dead? You aren’t loyal to them? At all?” 

Shepard sighed. Stretched. “That’s an even longer story. And way more complicated than it is exciting.” 

“But they’re advocating for the advancement of your people, aren’t they?” 

“It’s…complicated.” She must have been young, Shepard confirmed, not by her tone, but her naivety. Sounds great, doesn’t it? Putting yourself first. Especially when you feel like the underdog. Like the only way to survive is to look out for number one. And perhaps she would have agreed with her, at the equivalent of her age. Back when she felt defenseless, alone, abandoned by the one person in the world who was supposed to love her without fail, just because she was different. But she was older now, wiser, she hoped, and everyone was hurting in their own way; human, krogan, asari. Hannah had given her a second chance. How could she use that gift to trample others, even if their differences diverged from her own? 

_“Shepard? Shepard, you there?”_

“Kaiden?” She sprang to her feet, heart racing, turning her back on the young krogan circled around her. She could hear chatter behind her, but it hardly mattered. He was okay. He was alive. “Are you okay? Where have you been?” 

_“I’m fine, sorry I’m late.”_ She could hear the tinge of annoyance in his voice. Knew by his tone he’d be shaking his head, pressing his fingers into his eyes. _“Wrex got us off track again.”_

Shepard glanced back at Bakara, who was shaking her head, saying with her eyes ‘I told you so.’ Shepard grinned and turned her attention back to her Omni, relief washing over her like cool water. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You had me worried.” 

_“Now you know how I feel,”_ Kaiden chuckled, _“but don’t worry, we have a pretty good excuse.”_

“Oh?” 

_“Yeah. We actually ran into a blockade. Good thing the kids were with you—it got pretty hairy for a second there.”_

“Everyone make it out okay?” 

_“Yeah, everyone’s fine. Wrex got some info out of one of them.”_

“Anything helpful?” 

_“Mostly just confirmed what we already knew. Bunch of morons who think the krogan should still pay for a rebellion no one is even alive to remember. Still don’t have a clue who they’re working for,”_ he continued. _“But we found out where a missing recon team went. Took a detour to find where they’d been pinned down.”_

“You found them?” 

_“Oh yeah. And you’ll never believe who was with them.”_

_“Shepard!”_

She’d recognize that voice anywhere. “Grunt?” Her heart fluttered. Another person accounted for, another name to stop haunting her with the mystery of their fate. “I can’t believe you’re alive.” 

_“Of course I’m still alive! You think some squishy bastards could kill me?”_ He laughed, that big, boisterous laugh that never failed to make her smile and swell with pride. _“That’s just insulting. I never once believed you were dead.”_

“Squishy bastards?” 

_“Mostly humans, Shepard,”_ Kaiden elaborated. _“But not all. I saw at least one turian, and Grunt said they’ve run into salarians as well.”_

“I don’t like the sound of that. This is more than just a few people pissed about the genophage cure. It’s too…organized. “

_“I don’t like it either, but we can look into it later. For now we have to focus on getting those kids to safety.”_

_“I know. I just have a bad feeling about this.”_

_“Hey, you’re the only with the easy job,”_ he teased. _“You owe me big-time when this is over.”_

“Oh?” She took a few more steps away from the camp, a smile playing on her lips. “What’s my tab then?” 

_“I just want you alone. No imminent threat. No running. Just us.”_

“I think I can arrange that,” she grinned. “You’ll make it to the rendezvous point tomorrow by 1600?” 

_“Definitely. Scout ahead and make sure we’re there to escort you the rest of the way.”_

“Then I’ll see you soon. I love you.” 

_“I love you too.”_

It was those four words that burned within her, a warmth under her skin, that fought off the chill as they headed back into the depths of the tunnels. It sat on her chest, heavy and alive, like a cat curled in her lap, resting with her as she closed her eyes, knowing when she opened them again Kaiden would be a mere 3.8 kilometers south, and then all of this would be over, and they would have each other again. 

But it was not warmth she felt when she was woken, cold chapping her cheeks, Bakara urgently shaking her shoulders, her voice fighting to stay steady but prickled with fear. 

“Commander, wake up. The Elder is dead.”


	33. Divided They Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaiden is worried about Shepard's self-destructive tendencies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being MIA as of late. In the past month I've been laid off, moved, then started a new job! I hope to update much more frequently now! Thanks for sticking around!

“Poor thing.” 

Shepard sighed, her calves aching from the uncomfortable squat she’d taken next to The Elder’s body. Even in death, her presence filled the room. It was hard to believe someone so seemingly endless, so ageless, could slip so easily into the night, just like that. At least it was a good way to go, by human standards at least. Age finally creeping up on you in sleep. She wondered how old she had been, how many lifetimes she’s seen come and go. Now she’d never know. She wished she could have at least made it out before she passed, could have seen her people out to safety. 

What the hell were they going to do now? 

She sighed. Rose to her feet with a final pat across The Elder’s once-proud shoulders. The stillness was almost unbearable. Whispers and shuffling across the room, suppressed coughs. Did no one else realize how fucked they were? Was no one else aware? A gentle breeze once again brushed The Elder’s robes from her skin, and anger rose to Shepard’s throat as she brushed it back in place with a little more force than necessary. How long would Kaiden and the others wait for them on the other side? Surely they wouldn’t make it that far without being followed. They were sitting ducks for as long as—

A breeze had moved The Elder’s robes. 

A breeze! 

That had to lead to an exit, whether it was the one they wanted—

“Shepard,” Bakara whispered. Shepard jumped. She’d been so stuck inside her own head she hadn’t even realized the krogan was right behind her. “I’m sorry, but other others are becoming anxious. I was hoping you might have thought of a way out.” 

Shepard glanced behind her. Eyes on her. Looking for something to hope for, something to believe in. That was a look she knew all too well. She smiled, despite of herself. “I was sent here to take care of you,” Shepard told her, quietly, knowing her voice carried in the silence. “We’re getting out of here. You have nothing to be afraid of.” 

*****

He could see the waves of heat rising off stone. A stray bullet chipped a nearby boulder, sending dust into the air, startling him out of his moment of absentmindedness.  
He took a moment to check the comms again, only to be met with more silence. _Two hours late._ Of course he’s used to her shenanigans at this point, used to the way bad luck seems to follow her like her own shadow.

They can’t hold them off forever, even he knew that. Not after a two day nonstop trek across Tuchanka. They were followed, he knew they’d be followed and flanked, it’s what he would have done had the tables been turned. And maybe if all had gone according to plan they would have been okay, they wouldn’t have had time to send reinforcements, and they wouldn’t be stuck between a rock and a shit show. Of course, he should have learned by now nothing ever goes according to plan. Shepard’s Law. What can go to shit, will go to shit. _But everything would be fine if she would just show up._

Of course, they could easily hold their own here for a good amount of time. Thank god for the Krogan, for their fortitude. But no one can hold indefinitely. The possibility that she’d gotten lost had crossed his mind more than once. That somehow she’d been eaten by the darkness of the underground, waiting until the last flashlight battery died. There was a story he’d learned about as a child, some old myth about a labyrinth and a Minotaur, and a hero with a length of rope who ventured into the unknown. He couldn’t recall how the story ended. He hoped for their sake it was a happy one. 

Everyone was thinking the same thing, but no one wanted to say it: what the hell do we do if they never came out again? 

But in true Shepard fashion, just as the Tuchanka sun was threatening to send them into dusk and darkness, Kaiden peered out from cover to see a light from the mouth of the cave, and Shepard was there; a streak of shining red and black, glowing in the evening light. He swore he saw her smile, wave, some sort of flame in hand like an Olympic torch, when a bullet streaked past her and the switch flipped. 

She signaled the women behind her to retreat, to hide as the Shepard of legend, the one from the vids and the stories on the mess halls of ships across the galaxy came to life. It was all he could do it stay behind her, to keep up as she morphed into a streak of blue. 

When he first joined the Normandy, someone once said that the Commander fought _beautifully_ , which struck him as very odd. How could someone fight _beautifully?_. But watching her six for all these years, he understood now. The way every movement showed confidence, not the slightest hesitation, the way every movement was like water; fluid, unpredictable, natural. 

Yet somehow he always knew. There would the the slightest hesitation of her foot, the twitch of her fingers, the way she looked out of the corner of her eye, and he knew how to move with her. Like some kind of dance that had been rehearsed and planned, they complimented each other. One always behind the other without ever stepping on each other’s toes. Any semblance of doubt he’d once harbored melted away in her presence, as they picked off the last of the enemy. They were going to make it: the krogan would make it into the safety of the valley, where they couldn’t be seen or picked off slowly or plagued with drought. And then they would go home. Until she did something he couldn’t predict. 

Her eyes flickered toward him, protectively, the way they always glanced at each other to check in. But there was a flicker of fear in her eyes as they met his chest, leading to the red dot of a sniper. 

“Kaiden, twelve o’clock!” But she left no room for hesitation. She immediately dropped what she was doing, abandoning her current target, and took off in a sprint. Before he could ever react, she’d charged at him, a supernova of blue and black, tacking him to the ground. He heard the familiar tick of her shields going down, and when he scrambled to his feet, she was facedown and still. 

“Jane!” It was like the whole world stopped. Every ounce of training he had told him to keep going, to make sure he wasn’t riddled with bullets trying to help her, but his heart screamed louder than his brain. Abandoning his weapon, he pulled her just a few feet into cover, heart hammering so hard against his chest he was convinced it’d leave a bruise. 

“Jane! Jane!” 

Just as he was going to call for backup, she stirred. Shook her head like she’d simply tripped, and spat the dust from her mouth. “Ah, shit,” she said, rolling one shoulder. “I’m good, I’m fine,” she stuttered cheerfully. 

Panic turned to red-hot anger. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. What the hell was that for? His shields were intact, he would have been _fine_. There was no reason for her to jump in front of him like that, to risk her life. She could have been killed, she could have—

“That’s the last of them!” Wrex proclaimed triumphantly, interrupting the look of concern Shepard was starting to give him. She was smiling, congratulating Wrex as the women were being lead out of the cave to safety behind them. Everyone seemed so happy, but he couldn’t take it anymore. Did no one else see what had happened? How careless she had become? The Shepard he knew was brave, reckless at times. But not stupid. Not careless. 

It was like she had no regard for her own life. 

After everything they’d been through. After everything he’d done to get her back.

She glanced at him, eyes crinkling into a smile, obviously looking for his input in a conversation he hadn’t been listening to. In the distance, he could see their tiny ship waiting for him. 

“We should get back to the ship,” he asserted. “You’re injured.” 

She shook her head. Shrugged, but only with her good shoulder. Surely something was broken. “‘Tis but a flesh wound,” she trilled. “Can you relax?” 

No, I can’t, he wanted to snap at her. He mumbled something about needing to get back and check on something and made for the airlock in a huff. He heard Wrex ask something along the lines of “what crawled up his ass and died?” But Shepard didn’t follow him. He was glad, for once. He needed a second to think. 

Inside, he removed his helmet, holding it under his arm as he met Joker in the cockpit. At least Joker’s presents was almost comfortingly familiar, he thought, leaning against the wall with a sigh, pain in the ass as he could be at times. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Joker asked without looking up from his monitor. 

“That obvious?” 

“I’ve known you long enough. Besides, that stick up your ass is so big you practically waddled over here.” He paused, snickered at his own joke. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s wrong? Because you walking around like you have a wedgie is kinda embarrassing for, you know, the human race as a whole.” 

“It’s her.” He shook his head. Through the windshield, he could see her, still talking, still laughing as if she wasn’t in as much pain as she surely was. “While we were out there, she took a bullet for me. Like, a literal bullet.” 

“How romantic. Hope you don’t expect that from me.” 

“My shields were up,” he pressed. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine creeping into his vision, the way it blurred in the corners of his eyes. “Hers weren’t. There was no reason for her to do that. She’s being reckless.” 

“Duh, where have you been for the past eight years? It’s kinda her brand at this point.” 

“It’s more than that. She might have pulled some crazy stunts, but she’s hardly been an idiot about it. She’s being _careless._ That’s not like her and you know that.” 

Joker paused. Finally looked up from his screen and swiveled his chair to face him, all traces of a smile wiped off his face. “Not like her? Geez, sometimes I forget you missed out on over a year.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Look…she's been like this for a while, okay? You just…weren’t around to notice.” 

Kaiden paused. Considered his words, how deep they cut; because they were true. He wasn’t there. He didn’t take the chance to run back to her side the second he got the chance. Maybe they’d forgiven each other for their mistakes…but that didn’t erase what happened. “What do you mean?” 

“What? You think a normal person gets brought back from the dead and immediately nosedives into a suicide mission?” Joker pressed. “You think a normal person throws themselves into situations like that two days out of a hospital bed?” 

“I—no,” he sputtered. Of course he’d told himself, and she’d told him as well, that not joining her on Horizon wasn’t his fault. He’d made the best decision he could with the information he had, and he knew she’d never willingly join Cerberus. Not after finding out they were behind Akuze. He had no reason to think, to hope, that it was really her, after all that time. Had his absence driven her to be so reckless, or was it something else? He didn’t know which answer was worse. “I didn’t know it was that bad.” 

“Yeah. Well. It was,” Joker stated shortly. Kaiden could see the wheels of thought turning behind his eyes, like he was deciding whether to say something or not, but there wasn’t time. The airlock hissed and Shepard strode inside, shaking out the dust from her hair with the hiss of her helmet’s pressure locks. She smiled. Her lip was bleeding. 

“You won’t believe what Wrex just told me, apparently he thought—“ her eyes narrowed as she took in the energy in the room. Kaiden lowered his eyes, refusing to look at her. Joker’s gaze bounced back and forth between them, like he was watching a tennis match, waiting for someone to break the tension. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“You should go down to the medbay. You’re injured,” Kaiden stated coldly. It was something he’d have to confront eventually, he knew that, but not without strategy. He loved her enough to know how she’d react. Defensive, denial. And when she got like that trying to argue with her was like speaking to a brick wall. 

“I’ll live,” Shepard retorted, glancing at Joker, the only person who would meet her eyes. “What’s going on? Why do I feel like I just walked in on something I shouldn’t have?” 

“We’re just discussing how Cerberus forgot to install your self-preservation software,” Joker shrugged, and Shepard laughed, like this was a joke, like this was all just poking fun at her. 

“It’s not funny.” 

The smile faded from her lips quickly and silently, and she raised her eyes to look at him. Hurt and confusion on her face. “What’s the problem?” 

“The problem is that you’re being careless with your life,” he snapped, watching her eyebrows knit together. “My shields were up, yours weren’t, and you jumped in front of me anyway. You let yourself get hurt for what?” 

“You didn’t see the sniper. I did.” 

“I would have been fine. You’re injured.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah. Until you get yourself killed.” She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even glad you survived London, or if all this is just an inconvenience to you.” 

“What are you trying to imply here, Kaiden? That I’m suicidal? That I’m throwing my life away?”

You said it, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue. “You certainly don’t act like someone who values their life.” 

“This is ridiculous,” she scoffed. “You know what I’m about, Kaiden. I get the job done no matter what. If you don’t like it maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to marry you.” 

“And I love that about you, I always have. When you’re not being stupid about it.” What else was there to say? Didn’t she understand that this wasn’t just about her anymore? That countless people had prayed and wished and hoped for her survival, had wept tears of joy when they realized she was alive? That he was one of them? 

Those two years after the Normandy was destroyed had been awful. Perhaps if had just been a few days to her, but he’d lived every moment \ of those two years asking himself if he should have disobeyed her orders. If he should have stayed and made sure she got our safely. If there was something he could have done other than sit in silence as the surviving crew _listened to her suffocate and die._ Did she even know that her final breaths were recorded, broadcast to every person who’d worked with her over the past year? That her death rattle lived inside his skull, waking him up every single night for two years? That at her funeral, her mother was all skin and bones, like she might just fall in the empty casket and take her daughters place? That not a single person had a comforting thing to say to her, the the way their eyes locked still haunted him, the way they asked _why didn't you do something? I thought you loved her_  
He wanted to say it, to tell her. _I can’t watch you die again. I won't_ , but the words stuck to the roof of his mouth like mud, silencing him, choking him, burying him alive. 

“This is stupid. We’ll talk about this later, I have to call the council. It’s _urgent_.” She emphasized, as if the seriousness was lost on him, and only she understood this. 

“Go to the medbay. Please,” Kaiden added, defeatedly, pinching the space between his eyes to stave off his migraine.

“I will when I’m done. Like I said. Urgent.” She turned on heel, and he could practically see the heat of her temper rising off her shoulders. She’d cool off, he knew, until her anger became cool and solid like stone, and perhaps then she would listen. But he knew when to give her space, even if it hurt watching her go. 

“Yeah, because the council totally understands urgency, commander,” Joker called back. Kaiden knew she must have been mad, she didn’t even turn to give him an evil look. She slammed the button to the comm room doors with her fist, pointedly refusing to look back.  
“Well that went well,” Joker remarked, rolling his eyes. He paused, once again obviously sitting on something. “Maybe I can talk to her.” 

“You’d do that?” 

“Yeah. I think I can get through to her,” he told him, turning his chair back around. “Dibs on best man though. Congrats?” 

“Thanks, Joker,” Kaiden said, defeatedly. “I just…” Just what? So many things. Too many things. “I hope you know what to say. Because I don't.”


	34. Divided We Fall pt. 2

She’ll be feeling that one in the morning, she thought, stumbling down the hill to speak with a triumphant Wrex. Adrenaline took most of the edge off, but she could feel her suit working Medigel into the wound, and knows she’ll owe a trip to the medbay soon enough. Her armor is made to make a bullet, as many as it can, but all that force has to go somewhere. She just hoped it wasn’t into her ribs again. Probably her least favorite bone to break. 

A small price to pay for safety, even if it’s not her own. The valley’s walls were tall, shaded, defensible and less visible from the air. She could already see the relief on the women’s faces as they passed, some of them allowing their children to walk beside them instead of curling around them defensively. They stared at her; their juvenile looks of wonder unmistakable even across species. She wondered if they’d remember her, the first alien they’d ever met. She hoped she made a good enough impression. 

“That’s the last of them!” Wrex announced triumphantly, giving Shepard a high-five. She’d taught him this human greeting years ago, back on the original Normandy. It still touched her that he remembered it. “Good job, Shepard. See Bakara, I told you Shepard was something else.” 

“I never disagreed with you, Wrex,” Bakara narrowed her eyes. “Thank you, Shepard, you continue to prove yourself a champion of our people. We can never truly repay you.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ll put it on your tab,” she grinned. “Just wish we’d gotten to the bottom of this. I don’t like leaving this unsolved.” 

“Shepard,” Kaiden interjected, suddenly, placing a hand on her bad shoulder by mistake. She flinched. Shit, worse than she thought. Hot, burning trail of her shoulder. “You’re injured. We should go back to the ship.” 

Shepard glanced at Bakara, who looked concerned. She had something to say, and it couldn’t wait. If she knew had badly she was injured, she would send her away and may never speak up. 

“‘Tis but a flesh wound,” she smiled, trying to reassure Kaiden, who had clearly seen her flinch. He didn’t look amused. “I’ll be okay.” 

He murmured something Shepard couldn’t hear, and made his way to the ship. She could practically see a storm cloud above his head. He must have been tired; he hadn’t exactly had the easiest job the past few days.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Wrex laughed, but Shepard could barely fake a chuckle. Had she said something wrong? It wasn’t like him to just storm off like that—he was always the kind to talk things out.

“Mordin left a few of his associates behind,” Bakara interjected, glancing between Wrex and her. “To check on the cures progress, I’m sure. Most didn’t stick around long, too much hostility remained. But I asked one to alert the council and your contacts once we realized there could be danger. He said they acknowledged his message, but chose to do nothing.” 

“The council knew?” She shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?” 

“Will you say something on our behalf?” 

“Not sure what good it’ll do, but I’ll try ,” she promised her. “This shit has gone on long enough.” 

“Thank you, ma’saol. You are a credit to your people.” 

At that strange, untranslatable work, Wrex perked up, looking at her as if he’d never seen a human before. He grabbed her shoulders, hard, laughing so loudly in her face it was hard to not grin, his joy contagious. “Haha! I can’t believe it! Shepard!”

“Okay, you’ve officially lost the human. What the hell is going on?” 

“Wrex, let the woman go,” Bakara sighed, and Wrex released her. She hadn’t even realized that her feet had, briefly, left the ground. “I’m sure he’s excited for you, that’s all.” 

“Come again?” 

Bakara gave her an odd look, like the answer was obvious and Shepard was simply being a very dumb child. “You and your mate are expecting a child, are you not?” 

Shepard snorted, an attempt not to let out a laugh half of surprise, half of bewilderment. “No? Who told you that?” 

“The Elder? Did she not—“ Bakara glanced at her, clearly as perplexed as she was. “The name she had called you. Ma’saol. It is an ancient, protective name. One we use when one of our sisters—“ she cut herself off, shook her head. “My apologizes. She was quite old. Maybe her mind wasn’t as sharp as she claimed.” 

“It’s fine. Just…weird that she came up with that.” 

“Maybe she made an assumption, as you are traveling with your mate? Or she meant it honorifically? In a way, you are responsible for the children of—“ 

“Bah,” Wrex scoffed, “I knew the old coot didn’t know a thing. And Alenko doesn’t have the quad—“ 

“Okay, this conversation is over!” Shepard interrupted dramatically, throwing her arms into the air in defeat. “This had been fun but I’m going home now. Bye, Wrex, Bakara. I’m never coming back to Tuchanka so don’t ask me to again.” 

“You’re no fun,” Wrex heckled as Shepard began the trek back to the ship, ready to shed her armor and return to climate-controlled air. 

But she was met with whispers as the airlock hissed behind her, and she removed her helmet to find Joker very much looking at her, and Kaiden very much trying not to, an energy in the air that can only exist in a room where one was just being talked about. 

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, her smile quickly melting off her face.  
“You should go down to the medbay. You’re injured.” He didn’t look up as he said this, his tone even, not a drop of emotion behind it. 

“I’ll live,” Shepard responded, trying to get someone to meet her eyes. “What’s going on? Why do I feel like I just walked in on something I shouldn’t have?” 

“We’re just discussing how Cerberus forgot to install your self-preservation software,” Joker deadpanned, and she laughed. 

“It’s not funny.” Kaiden snapped, cutting her laughter off short, hands balling into fists at this side. 

“What’s the problem?” She inquired, crossing her arms. 

“The problem is that you’re being careless with your life.” Shepard scoffed, attempting to give Joker an exasperated look, but her backup appeared to be studying his shoes intently. “My shields were up, yours weren’t, and you jumped in front of me anyway. You let yourself get hurt for what?” 

“You didn’t see the sniper. I did,” she argued. What, was she just supposed to let him him get shot? Isn’t that the exact phrase, loving someone so much you’d take a bullet for them?  
He was angry, she could always tell. Kaiden’s anger was harder than hers, steady, more collected. He’d never yell, but there was an edge to his voice. Cold. Calculated. Even sharper, she thought, after their two years apart. You would never even know how hurt he was, sometimes, from how effortlessly his tone tried to protect him. But she knew. “I would have been fine. You’re injured.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah. Until you get yourself killed.” He shook his head, pausing, choosing his next words, calculating the damage they might do. She’d always admired that about him, how collected he could be even when his heart was hurting. But being on the receiving end of his arguments was aggravating. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even glad you survived London, or if all this is just an inconvenience to you.” 

She knew he was about to drop a bomb like that. Her face felt flush, hot with anger. “What are you trying to imply here, Kaiden? That I’m suicidal? That I’m throwing my life away?” 

“You certainly don’t act like someone who values their life.” 

She stepped toward him. She knew she was raising her voice, but she couldn’t stop herself. She’d seen people give up before. Seen old friends on earth huff red sand until their heart gave out, not caring how many people begged them to stop before it was too late, left to rot in some corner store bathroom. She’d seen the shoes left on the side of highway bridges, seen the remains of those who drank themselves to death in the alleys behind her school, the aftermath of soldiers who couldn’t take their own nightmares anymore. That was not her. She’d fought her whole life to make sure that was not her. 

“This is ridiculous. Of course I value my life,” she snapped. “You know what I’m about, Kaiden. I get the job done no matter what. If you don’t like it maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to marry you.” 

She felt bad for that one. She saw his eyes flicker, his face fall for a moment. She didn’t mean to imply that he didn’t love her, but she knew that was how he’d take it. She wished she wasn’t too angry and proud to apologize. 

“I love how passionate you are. When you’re not being stupid about it.”

She forced herself to take a deep breath. This was getting them nowhere, and already she regretted too many things she’d said, no need to add more to that list. Besides, the ship was too quiet, too small. She knew the eerie silence of eavesdropping when she heard it. No need to make conversations with the rest of the crew any more awkward than it already was. Besides, the council couldn’t wait. Not while the future of the krogan was still in the crosshairs.  
“This is stupid. We’ll talk about this later; I have to call the council. It’s _urgent_.” They could sort their problems out later. A lover’s quarrel couldn’t get in the way of the krogan people. 

“Go to the medbay. Please,” Kaiden asked her, softly, as she walked toward the comm room. She glanced behind her, wishing she hadn’t. He looked so tired, so defeated. She wanted to go back to him, to hold his face in her hands, to tell him everything would be alright. But her ego was too wounded for that, and they both needed space to lick their wounds and heal.  
“I will when I’m done. Like I said. Urgent.” She regretted how harsh she sounded. Joker made a comment she couldn’t hear as she made her way to comms. Even if she couldn’t hear the words, she could hear the snide tone. She chose to ignore it, mostly because she couldn’t bear to look back at Kaiden again. 

In the comm room, she dialed the council as soon as the doors whooshed shut behind her. It took a few minutes of finessing her way around the familiar AI secretary, but by now it was child’s play to say the right things to ensure the least amount of unhelpful conversation. She prayed they would be available, relief washing over her face (relieved to see the council? That was new) as their translucent faces formed one by one before her. 

“Commander Shepard? We just got word you’re alive, and now we’re hearing about a conflict on Tuckanka? What’s going on?” The Asari councilor asked, her expression a tad more patient than the rest. 

“I’m here on behalf of the krogan. Their children were being threatened by an unknown terrorist organization.” 

“Not surprising. The genophage cure was unpopular, commander,” the salarian chimed in. “Why were they unable to handle it themselves?” 

“They were afraid for their children, counselor,” she emphasized. “They requested aid from you weeks ago.” 

“Ah, yes. I got the report,” the salarian responded without much interest. “I assumed they had it under control.” 

“You assumed? After they specifically requested aid?” Her anger flared, but she tried her best to channel Kaiden’s more silent form of fury. “You ignored them. No wonder they don’t trust you. Over and over, you turn your backs on them.” 

“We’re not here to discuss the politics of the genophage, Shepard, but I will if you insist.” She’d struck a nerve with the salarian counselor, she knew it. Did they know more than they let on? “It was a necessary evil. You weren’t there.” 

“Oh, and you were?” She snapped. The other two counselors gave each other uncertain glances, calculating if they should intervene. 

“What is your proposed solution, Commander?” The salarian pressed. 

“Give the Krogan a chance. Give them a seat on the council, a representative, something,” she begged. “Give them an opportunity to be better than how the galaxy has treated them.”  
“Council seats are earned, not gifted. Or are you forgetting how hard your people worked for their seat?” 

“The krogan have proven themselves,” she argued, turning her attention to the turian, finally, who was studying her closely. Perhaps they had not always seen eye to eye, but the war had, perhaps, brought his people and hers closer than they had ever been. “You wouldn’t have gotten Palaven back without them, and you know it.” 

The turian held her eyes, just for a moment, before turning them downwards, leaving her helpless and alone. 

“They’ve proven themselves as brutes, which we already knew from the first time we uplifted them. What will making them more powerful accomplish except more war?” 

“You backed them into a corner then, and you’re doing the same thing now,” she said. “You gave them weapons, not a voice. You can’t treat someone like they’re a monster and expect them do become anything else.” 

“So uplifting the krogan was a mistake? Something we can agree on.” 

“You didn’t uplift them, you disfigured them! These people had art, architecture, music. It was cultural genocide.” 

“You forget, the krogan destroyed their planet themselves.” 

“And you never gave them a chance to recover from their own mistakes. To be anything more than a weapon at your disposal.”

“We praised the krogan after the raccni war! Rewarded them! They took too much!” 

“You built a machine for war. You can’t be angry when they can’t deny their nature at your will,” she retorted. The salarian was a lost cause. But the turian? He knew where credit was due. He knew the score. “Of course they’re going to stumble along the way,” she continued “but you have to let them try.” 

He glanced up at her, finally, eyes piercing. He had to understand. He had to. “You have given us much to discuss,” the asari interrupted. “We will confer and…consider your viewpoint. Goodbye, commander.” 

The comm flickered, then died. Finally, the tightness in her throat began to seep into her chest, the deep rumble of a thunderstorm. Flashing hot anger cooled to ashes, leaving her to choke on the smoke. She pressed her face into her hands, let her shoulders fall, trying to stifle whatever was raging inside of her until she could find somewhere private. Whatever it was, it was eating away at her for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Perhaps she would have a moment here to compose herself, she thought, before she heard the rapt of two knuckles on the doorway. Kaiden. 

“Jane?” She took a deep breath, collected herself, standing strong and tall once more and putting forth her war face. She would not allow him to see her break down. If he did, he would comfort her. Try to smooth what was hurting. But the frustrating truth of the matter was that nothing was hurting, at least, nothing she could see, and she could not express something she did not understand herself. Not to mention her ego was still bruised from their disagreement, her head too clouded to really make peace with his words. 

“Yeah. I know,” she told him, coldly. “I should take my own advice.” 

“Actually I was trying to tell you before the call, you have something in your teeth.”

“Oh.” She paused in the doorway, trying to catch a blurry glance of herself in the brushed metal of the hull. Had she always looked so tired? Had her eyes always seemed so sunken? It was hard to remember anything before the war, between all the emotions swirled around in her head and those past few months that felt like more like decades. 

“Just kidding. But you’re right, you know,” he told her, softly, so close only she could hear. “Just because you spent your whole life fighting doesn’t mean you have to go out that way too.”  
She opened her mouth to tell him that she knew that, but paused. Did she? Deep down? She never pictured a life beyond the reapers. Always figured she’d go down fighting, never really able to picture another option. All her life she’d had her next step planned, but surviving the war? Not something she’d let herself hope for. Everything beyond that day in London was fog and darkness, unknown, uncharted. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit. 

“I should probably go down to the medbay,” she said, softly, noncommittally. The adrenaline was wearing off, the ache spreading up her neck and down her spine, and Kaiden looked tired, too tired to talk things out. They both needed space and sleep before they could speak again.  
He nodded, his hand brushing hers as she passed. Divided, but not unfixable. They’d get through it. 

Always on the same team. 

No matter what.


	35. Hold Me To my Promises

The new doctor was painfully novice. 

Stripped of her armor, she almost expected Chakwas to be sitting in her usual chair, doing her usual slow turn with her hands knitted together, asking what was broken this time. But this woman is young, new, probably too young to actually be a doctor. She stumbles and the doors open, her eyes so fixated on Shepard she drops the tray of freshly sanitized medical equipment on the floor. 

“Oh, jeez, sorry. I mean—“Do these recruits keep getting younger? Or is she just getting that old? “Commander,” she clears her throat, lowering her tone. “What can I do for you?” 

“Got a little banged up out there,” she explained, gesturing to the growing black and blue mark on her shoulder. The doctor nodded for her to have a seat on one of the tables, which she did, her feet dangling a few inches off the floor. Chakwas has said once she never really considered how small she was until she noticed this, and she wasn’t the first one. Most people just weren’t brave enough to point it out, and that included this doctor, if she ever noticed. She seemed jittery and nervous, distracted even. She barely addressed the commander and she pulled her shirt over her head to show her the wound. 

“Everything okay, doc?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. Something dropped. She heard her grapple with it on the table. 

“Y-yes, ma’am,” she murmured. “Just nervous.” 

She shook her head, remembering what James had said on that trip to the citadel so long ago. You aren’t just a solider to them, even if that’s how you see yourself. “I’m not going to bite you, despite what you may have heard,” she reassured her. Her hands were cold on her back, and she could hear the buzz of her omnitool, searching for broken bones. 

“Yes, ma’am,” she agreed, seemingly out of reflect. “I’m new. At this, I mean. I hadn’t even done my clinicals yet when the war started.” 

“Talk about trial by fire,” she responded. She smelled the rubbing alcohol before she felt it, a sharp string right on the shoulder blade that was more familiar than she wanted it to be. It didn’t last long once she reapplied the medigel, taking the edge off the string almost instantly. “If it’s any consolation, everything else you see will probably seem like nothing after this. You’ll be a pro before you know it.” 

“Thanks, commander.” She could sense her smile, the way her hands gently laid a protective bandage over the wound. “I’m just not trying to be the doctor that messes up the savior of the galaxy’s shoulder.” There was the crinkle of sterile packaging, and that was her signal to pull her shirt back on and hop down. “Nothing’s broken, but you’re gonna have a hell of a bruise and perhaps some scarring from the point of impact. The medigel should keep the pain at bay, but I can give you more if it’s bothering you.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Chakwas absence was louder now, echoing in the much tinier medbay than the one on the Normandy. She would have given her so much grief for being so stupid, would have clicked her tongue and warned her not to come back unless they were having a drink together. They would have talked about life, what they were each thinking about with the war, what they would be doing with their final days as if they weren’t both relentless workaholics, discussing vacations they both knew they’d never take. She missed her. Missed a lot of things. 

“I noticed you’re a bit warm, commander. Perhaps get some water and rest, dehydration is not joke.” 

“Thanks. I will.” 

The tiny mess hall, which had only one round table, was dead compared to the regular traffic of the Normandy, but in actuality probably held a significant portion of the crew. It must have been dinner time, or at least, it had been a bit ago, judging by the empty plates. A few crew members were playing cards, and they glanced for a bit too long as she passed, trying not to stare. There was a time where she would have known their names, would have sat with them and played and probably won. They would have laughed and drank and for a brief moment, the weight of the world would feel just a little bit lighter.

But it occurred to her that life was dead now. No bringing it back this time, like when she’d picked up the pieces following her two-year disappearance like sweeping dust from the corners of the room. There was no threat of annihilation to keep them bound to one another, no threat to watch each other’s backs for. Everyone else had moved on, it seemed. Even Kaiden was pulling her toward another stage of her life, one she wasn’t as ready for as he wanted her to be. It was a terribly lonely way to live. 

She longed for solitude, and on the Normandy, the closest thing to it outside of her own quarters was the lower decks. The closest things to this was the shuttle bay, she found. She heard the sounds of metal against metal, working engineers, but found nothing. She found quiet by the shuttle itself, where she could once find a private and sympathetic ear with Cortez. Shit, she even missed James, although she’d never admit it for fear of never hearing the end of it. Hauling herself up on the edge with one working arm was no easy feat, and she found herself lying with her legs dangled over the edge, face pressed against the cool medal. It helped relax a tension in her face she didn’t know she was holding. 

Twenty minutes couldn’t have gone by before she heard familiar footsteps. It was any wonder he’d managed to hide from the collectors all those years, she thought. For someone so light, he had the gait of an elephant. 

“Hey, mind if I sit?”

“No laws in Alliance Space saying you can’t.” She sat up to give him a boost, knowing Joker would struggle to climb aboard. 

“Technically the Normandy SR-shitstain is drifting in international waters. You think I’d trust the autopilot for a second?” He asked, a few moments after he’d settled beside her. 

“I don’t think Hackett will appreciate the new name,” she deadpanned, resting her chin on her knee and leaning against the wall, closing her eyes. “Kaiden send you down here to talk to me?” 

“What do you think?”

“Must be pretty important if you got off your ass.”

Joker let out a dry chuckle. At least some things stayed the same; she still wasn’t very funny. 

“You know Kaiden and I used to do stuff like this when we were first getting to know each other. We’d sit in the weirdest places, just to get a moment of privacy. In the elevator at night. In the engine room. In the Mako. We’d just talk, all night long if we didn’t watch the time.” She wasn’t sure why she’d shared this. She’d never been very sentimental, but she missed those days. She never realized how quickly they’d slip through her fingers like sand, never would have guessed that those would be simpler times once day. They certainly didn’t feel simpler at the time. 

Joker made a fake gagging noise, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. The puppy dog eyes you’d give each other in the mess made me want to be sick.”

“That bad, huh?” She smiled. And she thought she’d been slick. Joker always knew more than he let on though, and at the time was probably the only person on the Normandy that really knew anything about her aside from Anderson. They had a lot in common, she knew. Both so guarded around other people. Both constantly feeling like they had to defend themselves from nothing at all. But he’d been part of the Normandy as long as she had, and the Normandy has been like family. Joker had been like family. 

“I thought about breaking my own legs more than once so I could get discharged.” He paused. She could feel the tension in the air, a bowstring of words, ready to be fired. “He’s just worried about you, you know.” 

“I know.” 

“And so am I,” he added, clearing his throat. “You look like shit.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“I mean it.” 

“Graves only have to be 6 feet deep; you know. You don’t have to keep digging.” 

“I’m still trying to keep my promise to Anderson, you know.” He glanced up at her, eyes narrowed. “You’re my friend, and you look worse than the last time I saw you. You know, right before you went down to earth on another suicide mission? At least then you seemed to try to take care of yourself.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Joker?”

“You’re being an idiot,” he shook his head. “Sure, you pulled some dumb stunt before, but at least you were reasonable. No one’s making you risk your neck anymore. So why does it feel like you’re trying to get yourself killed?” 

“The krogan needed me.” 

“Your mom needs you, Kaiden needs you. Your friends need you,” he snapped, “I never thought I’d see Commander Shepard give up.” 

“I’m not—“ 

“If you keep giving yourself to other people like this, you’re not going to have anything left,” he continued, ignoring her interruption. “And then what? You didn’t see what it was like after you died, Commander. And maybe you won’t be around to care, but I will, and so will everyone else. You can’t just do that to people. You can’t do that to Kaiden again.” 

She stopped herself. Swallowed. That was it, wasn’t it? Fighting, boots on the ground, that’s what made her feel alive. It was like an addiction, a poison. “It was that bad?” She asked, quietly. 

Joker was quiet for a long time, picking at the lace of his boots. “Kaiden heard you die. Did you know that? Your comms were still on. Chakwas told everything to turn them off, but Kaiden wouldn’t. It was like he just froze. I’ve never seen a person shut down like that.” 

“He never—no one told— “She paused, swallowing her words. “No wonder he didn’t believe I could be alive.” 

“Look—I’m not trying to guilt you or cramp your style or anything. But you make a better friend than a martyr. Besides, I’m not ironing my dress uniform to go to _another_ funeral for you.” He shook his head. “Take some time off for once, will you?”

“I did!”

“Being in a coma doesn’t count,” he told her, pointedly. “Seriously. Why don’t you actually _enjoy _being alive for once?”__

__“Hey, you’re one to talk. How many days did you take before you were back in the pilots chair?” She jeered, but Joker didn’t seem amused. “What’s wrong?”_ _

__“Nothing. Some of us have more to go back to than others, that’s all.”_ _

__“Oh, Joker…I’m so sorry.” She wanted to hit herself, slam her head against the metal door. She’d never even asked about his family, and here she was, a mother and a lover taken for granted, feeling sorry for herself. “What happened?”_ _

__“Dad didn’t make it out in time. I’m sure you figured that much out.”_ _

__“What about Hilary?”_ _

__“She’s…in Montreal.”_ _

__“She’s alive?”_ _

__He shrugged. It was rare to see Joker in such a state, to see him bear the weight on his shoulders to others. “She’s in critical condition. Our godparents are staying with her.”_ _

__“That’s awful. I didn’t know.”_ _

__“She’s getting better, we’re still trying to piece together what happened. But if she makes it, she probably won’t walk, or maybe even talk. Whole future just…” he made a waving gesture with his hands “poof. Gone.”_ _

__“Have you gone to see her?”_ _

__“Once. I didn’t stay long.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“I just can’t stand looking at her like that. I just…I wasn’t there. And I feel like I should have done something. And now the longer I’m away, the harder it is to go back and face her.”_ _

__Shepard shook her head. “What could you have done? Break your wrists at the reapers? You did more than your fair share, Joker. You gave her something worth fighting for. You gave her a _chance,_.” He didn’t seem very convinced, and she reached out, placed a hand on his skinny shoulder. “You should visit when we land. Just because you weren’t there before, doesn’t mean you can’t be there now.”_ _

__“You think she’ll be mad?”_ _

__“Maybe. But the more time passes the harder it’ll be. You’re hurting yourself as much as you’re hurting her.” He sighed, in a way that she knew her point had been taken, even if it was an ugly truth. “You’re family to me, Joker. Always have been. If you need someone to back you up—"_ _

__“No, you’re right. I’ll take some time off. Go see how she’s doing. Maybe stay for a few weeks.” He glanced at her, gave her a pointed look. “As long as you take your time off too.”_ _

__“I will. Hold me to it?”_ _

__“Hold you to it.”_ _

__

********************************************

__Kaiden was absent from her cabin when she returned. She considered briefly whether to go looking for him, in hopes that he wasn’t avoiding her, but exhaustion was heavy in her bones. Perhaps it was for the best. There was a conversation to be had, one that she didn’t have the strength to have tonight. Tense as things might have been between them, he was still a comforting presence, and she hoped he wasn’t making himself scarce for her sake. She showered, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed alone, hoping to wake to him by her side._ _

__Instead she woke to terror. The slam on metal, the screech of alarm bells._ _


	36. Nowhere to Run

It is the howl of urgency. The rumble of motion. She wonders who decided to make emergency lights red, who chose to bathe the world in blood. She takes inventory of herself; heart thumping powerfully in her chest, boots laced up with lighting efficiency, hair pulled back and pistol at her side. All is how it should be, step after step bringing her closer and closer to danger. 

It’s familiar because she’s done it all before, in her head, a million times. It’s what her mother taught her to do, what Anderson trained her to see. Sizing up the Normandy, all the escape routes, all the vantage points. She’s run through scenario after scenario, one tragedy after another. There is no scrambling after the emergency hatch; she tried every one before her mind would allow her rest. She slips down to the main deck, into her armor like a second skin, seals her helmet. Hull breach. Full meltdown imminent. Evacuation necessary. 

A steak of blue-turned-purple under the red lights catches her arm as she makes her way to the bridge, ensuring all her crew is making their way to the escape pods. In that moment they are faceless, nameless, she doesn’t allow herself to remember their games of cards or who has photos of their children on their bunks. But when he grabs her arms, the world stops, muffles. He says something, words that refuse to make sense. She can tell from the way he gestures something is wrong, he’s upset, but she turns from him, ignoring his pleas and propelling herself further. 

The bridge stretches onward, endlessly, like one of those nightmares where the hall seems to stretch on and on. She can see the light, that glow of red against darkness, but it never gets closer, and her feet grow heavier and slower with every step. The back of her neck tingles. Had the streak of blue followed her? She glanced behind slowly, her body in slow motion. 

A shadow. Dark. Tall. Faceless and armed, shotgun glowing in the distant red light, his gait unaffected by the lack of gravity. 

She screams as the world falls out from under her, body refusing to run. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to run to, just a vast expanse of darkness, and the hiss of oxygen slowly seeping from the base of her neck, like an imaginary foot crushing her windpipe. Head exploding, she tries to scream, tries to make any noise at all outside of the involuntary gurgle of her fighting lungs, but there is no air behind it to give it strength, nothing more within her to—

And then everything went cold. She sat up, shivering despite of her sweat-soaked tank top, holding her head between her hands. Blankets are huddled at her feet and onto the floor, recently fought off she assumed. He’d heart raced, murmured, desperately trying to stay alive. She surveyed the room, took inventory; no alarms. No boots laced at the ready. No familiar nooks and crannies to hide in. No red light. Just the faint, ambient glow of her charging data pad. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, it occurs to her that she was not alone. Kaiden had returned, she supposed, as she slept. 

There was a pause. Kaiden was awake, of course he is, no one would have slept through that, but there is a possibility of him faking unawareness. There is a margin of deniability. If he decided he was still angry, if he was fed up with her, tired of these episodes, there was plenty of room for excuses. He could roll over, go back to sleep, pretend it never happened. 

But instead, the bed shifted. She felt him move closer, the dip of the mattress as he sat up. 

“Jane? What’s wrong?” His voice was groggy, slurred from sleep. The clock read almost 3am.   
She shook her head, pressed her palms deeper into her temple. She wished he hadn’t woken up. She wished she could have just showered, laid awake until morning, pretending that none of this had happened. Nothing was wrong. Nothing— 

“Hey.” Another shift. His warm hand on her bare shoulder, reaching down her spine. How long as she been shaking for? Her body pulsed with electricity, staticky, kinetic energy. She hadn’t noticed until she felt his steadiness. “You okay?” 

She shook her head, finally bursting. It’s a gasp more than a sob, a seize of her lungs, and her hands feel numb. The world fazed, fuzzed, like TV static, like a million moving bugs. She forced her palms open, closed, open, closed, but nothing could bring the feeling back. 

“What’s wrong with me?” 

“Hey.” He flicked a nearby light on. Looked up at her. Warm brown eyes, meeting her damp and dark. Hands rough from years of hard work, but soft against her shoulders. He held her and she melted against him, finally releasing a tension she didn’t even know was building inside of her. 

“What’s wrong with me?” She repeated, when her breath finally caught up with her, and the world was a little more solid. His thumb was tracing circles along the nape of her neck, running races around her vertebrae. She had forgotten the way he held her like that, how his hands always brushed her neck, as if to trace the places she was vulnerable and keep them safe in the palm of his hand. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” he told her, his hand falling toward her own, fingers drumming along hers, like playing the piano on her knuckles. “I got you, okay? You’re okay. I got you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. For what? The words wouldn’t string together. Wouldn’t make sense. For waking him up? For what she’d said before? 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told her quietly. “Just breathe, okay? Stay here with me. You’re gonna be okay.” 

She nodded. Tried to heed his advice. It wasn’t the first time she’d stopped, panicked, frozen like a deer in headlights. But it was the first time in a long time. And the first time she’d allowed someone close enough to see. 

“I’m okay,” she forced herself to choke, after what felt like an eternity. She felt cold now, like a child finally broken from a fever. “I’m okay.”

“You want me to let you go?” 

She nodded. Wiped her eyes. “Just give me a minute, okay?” 

“All the time you need.” 

She refused to look at him as she walked herself to the bathroom. She didn’t want to know his expression; worry, pity, concern. She felt embarrassed to have broken down like that, no matter how many times she told herself that he loved her, that he was a good person, that he didn’t mind. Her body couldn’t seem to make up its mind; hot or cold. Still, splashing water in her face helped. In the dim light of the bedroom, she could just barely make out a reflection. Exhaustion had carved into her face, creating deep trails from her eyes almost down to her cheeks. There were scratches on her neck, self-inflicted she was sure.

Kaiden was waiting for her, just like he always had, when she finally returned, pulling herself into a corner of the bed with her knees up to her chest. It took a lot to make her feel so small. What was more frustrating was that she still couldn’t justify why this was happening. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

His voice was always so gentle. Sometimes she wondered how the hell he managed to be a biotics teacher. Military instructors weren’t exactly known for their low and loving tones. It used to make her feel uneasy, she’d never really been spoken that way. Even Hannah was still her superior officer at the end of the day, used to barking orders, even to her. It felt patronizing. Until she realized it was less about her, and more about him, and the way he felt about her. 

She shook her head. What she wanted was to fall asleep and forget this ever happened, but her nerves were still on edge. It’d take her a while to come down from that. 

“What’s wrong with me?” She repeated, three times the charm. She studied her hands, the scars that defined them. She’d lost track of where they’d all come from. “I try to live a normal life, and I feel like I don’t belong. I try to come back to the only life I’ve ever known, and I can’t seem to handle that either. What am I supposed to do now?” 

“No one expects you to be okay right away.” Tell that to the Alliance, she wanted to reply. She’d believe that when they stopped asking for the impossible from her again and again. “You’ve been through some awful shit. It’s gonna catch up to you eventually, no matter how fast you run.” 

“I’m not running,” she protested weakly, knowing it was a lie. “I just—I’m lost. I don’t know what to do.” 

She glanced at him. How often had soldiers said those same words to her? Looking her in the eye, blood running down their faces. Panicked cries over comms. Final messages arriving too late. She’d never allowed herself to utter that phrase to anyone else. She was always the one with the answers, always the one who knew what to do. A leader. A Shepard. But what do you do when the leader becomes the lost? 

“You don’t have to know,” he told her, softly. “You’ve spent your whole life worrying about other people, give it a break, okay? Let me worry about you for a little bit. You know, more than I already do.” 

“Worry more than you already do?” She smiled, despite herself, shaking her head. “I don’t exactly have a lot of self-preservation skills, I’ve been told. What a shit job you’ve got ahead of you.” 

She smiled. Rolled his eyes. “Not to me it’s not,” he said. “Not when it’s you.” 

***********************  
 __

_My dearest friend,_

_One of Mordin’s old friends informed me of your conversation with the council. I have no idea what you said to the turian councilor — but you’ve certainly shaken the faith he had in his ancestors’ actions. No one thought the temporary truce between our people and theirs was anything but that, however your actions may have changed the course of the bad blood that has divided us for centuries. While we may be centuries from having a voice in the council, we have found many new friends who believe in our cause, and the wheels have been set in motion for an official ambassador to be placed on the new Citadel in due time. I may not know what the future holds, but I do know that I have found a true sister in you. I have never met someone who has spoken and acted so passionately in our defense, and for that your dependents will always find a home with mine, for as long as our names live on. I hope the energy you have given to the universe is returned to you in full, and that our paths meet again sooner than later._

_Best,_

_Bakara of Clan Urdnot_

__

The message came in as they made their final decent on earth, along with a few dozen others that had clearly struggled to come through after they’d left the system. A brief note from her mother about coming to visit her as she recovered from her injuries. A few dozen requests from journalists, asking if the rumors of her survival were true and begging for interviews. A message from Joy, imploring her to respond as soon as they were home safe. Even a brief message from Chakwas, asking her to visit now that the earth transit systems were recovering. 

She wasn’t the only one bombarded with news. Their first moments back on earth were mostly spent catching up on everything they’d missed, and Kaiden’s eyes had hardly left his Omni as they waited to dock. He said very little until they were gathering their meager possessions and leaving the docks. 

“I can see the little wheels turning in your head, you know,” she told him as they left the ship, duffles in tow. Her shoulder was still stiff and stinging, unable to support the weight of her bag. For once, she was grateful for the fresh start Cerberus has given her body. Her right shoulder had always been wonky, more prone to injury, ever since she’d dislocated it during N7 training and made to relocate it herself. First aid proficiency was required, of course, but that didn’t mean she had the patience for it like Kaiden did. At least she had one working shoulder, for now. “What’s bothering you?” 

Kaiden thought carefully for a moment, paused at the exit to the docks. “On a scale of one to ten, how upset would you be spending the week at Hannah’s without me?” 

This took Shepard back for a moment. They’d agreed on Hannah’s being their destination just a few hours ago, at Kaiden’s insistence that they check up on her. “She doesn’t hate you, you know,” Shepard teased “she just like to push your buttons.” 

“It’s not that. I got a message from some students of mine. They’re—they need my help. In London.” 

Shepard scrunched her nose, clearly confused. “What’s wrong? Are they in danger?” 

“Not exactly. It’s…complicated. I wish I could explain. It’s just for a few days, it’ll make more sense later.” 

She paused. Placed her bag down, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?” Kaiden’s eyes darted from hers, and it was all the confirmation she needed. He’d always bragged that he knew her tells, but the road went both ways. “You’re not leaving me behind because it’s dangerous, are you?” 

“What? No, I—“ he sighed. Shook his head. “I promise. I just need you to trust me, okay? No ones in danger. If you came with, you’d be bored out of your mind.” 

She hesitated. Took a deep breath, clearly unsure. That was the key phrase, wasn’t it? _Trust me._ And she did, didn’t she?

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone. Besides, you and Hannah have a lot to catch up on.” 

She nodded, not quite agreeing, not quite committing. Was he trying to get rid of her? Trying to keep her out of harm’s way? Surely she couldn’t let him go alone if that were the case, if he was hurting. They look out for each other. Always had, always would. 

“Are you sure you’re up to this? I mean, you haven’t exactly had an easy past few days.” More like weeks, she wanted to add. “You’re worrying me. I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”

“Hey,” he said, softly, taking her hand and pressing it to his cheek, the way he always did. He smiled, this time in a way that matched his eyes, but did not mask the tiredness behind them. “It’s my job to worry about you now, remember? I’ll be okay.” 

“You can let me worry a little.” 

He rolled his eyes. Smiled. Seemed to melt into her touch, one last time. “I promise. You don’t have to.” 

_And Kaiden says I’m stubborn_ , she thought, stepping out of her taxi and onto the minuscule lawn of her mother’s house, a place she hadn’t seen in many years. But she trusted him, she reminded herself. She had to. If she couldn’t trust him, she couldn’t trust anyone.

Then she saw Hannah’s face in the screen door. Flung open wide, just like her arms. The scent of her hair, her skin, the surprising strength of her arms. She missed her, suddenly. She hadn’t allowed herself to do so in a long time, but now they were together, and that was all that mattered, in that moment. 

Until she realized not even that was enough to make her feel safe these days.


	37. Let Her Go

Hannah’s house was hardly a home. Perhaps it had been, once upon a time, but that dream had long sense been abandoned. 

It was a small, simple home just outside of Vancouver. Lots of military-types lived in the area. Far enough from the base for comfort, close enough to commute. Of course, both surviving Shepard’s had made whichever ship they served on home, and so the only thing that kept the dust at bay was the cleaning service Hannah paid to come once a week. Half the furniture still had crinkly, plastic covers on top, and the patterns were over a decade out of date. Plenty of things were clearly as Ann had left them before her final deployment; extra keys in a bowl on the table, a coat too small for Hannah on the hook by the door, a pair of heels that Hannah would never wear in the corner. A strange sort of solders memorial. 

More evidence of Ann’s ghosts sat on the mantle. A digital picture frame flipped through old pictures; wedding photos, vacations, deployments, award ceremonies. Shepard stared at these photos the few times she’d stayed here as a teen, trying to piece together the person Hannah had once been before loss had molded her into the tough, callus woman who’d raised her. Next to the frame was a carefully folded Australian flag, and a small black jewelry box that she knew contained Ann’s dog tags. It was jarring how little had changed all these years, how little time Hannah must have spent here.

Even more jarring was the only addition to the house since she’d returned; her own picture on the mantle, next to Ann’s. It was that photo from her birthday, her 18th, her hair long and in two braids instead of one. It flickered awkwardly every few seconds, clearly attempting to switch to a different image that didn’t exist. A medal of valor was framed next to it, gifted and quickly forgotten after Akuze, along with a copy of her N7 completion letter and a small plush German Shepard. It was obvious her mother had placed this here after her death, but she hadn’t returned here since Cerberus had put her back together.

Hannah seemed better. Steadier. Her skin had returned to its healthy warm, dark color, and she no longer moved as if every motion caused her pain. In the evenings, she would sit on their back balcony with a beer, watching the sun set until it became too cold to endure and she came inside to bed (in more ways than Shepard wanted to admit, Hannah and Kaiden had a lot in common). The first night, she feigned exhaustion, or rather, she feigned sleep, slinking away from discussing what had happened with Hannah. Her not-so-childhood bedroom was hardly a comfort; it was grey, unfamiliar, without even a touch of personal affects. In a way, it was more comforting than most sane people would think. Never having a real home meant that unfamiliarity was, for lack of better words, more familiar than anything she’d ever known. 

But Hannah wanted to talk to her, and there was no avoiding that. She spent the majority of the morning out of the house, presumably at headquarters, although Shepard never bothered to ask. She enjoyed her morning of solitude well enough. A jog in the park, light, as to not aggravate the wound on her shoulder, or the knee that had made its lack of intention to function normally clear. A warm shower, during which she washed her clothes. She missed the way they smelled on the Normandy, the cheap, bulk Alliance-issue detergent that Hannah of course kept on hand.

She returned with the clattering of keys and the sound of boots being kicked off in the doorway. She heard her footsteps on the stairs, knew the rapt of her knuckles on the doorframe was inevitable, but didn’t look up until she could sense the figure standing over her.  
“Are you going to come out and talk to me or what?” She didn’t have to look up to know she was standing, in her fatigues, still, one hand on her hip, a rare crooked smile on her lips. Jane groaned. Hannah was as persistent as she was stubborn — she couldn’t escape her talks as a teenager, and she couldn’t escape them now. She forced her tired muscles to follow her mother out the living room, pushing aside the couch cover to settle against the arm rest as Hannah fished two cold beers out of the fridge. The popped them open one by one, on the side of the table, an old trick Jane had never picked up, and handed one to her daughter as she took a swig of her own. Jane accepted, thumbing the edge of the brown glass and she balanced it between the knees she’d raised to her chest. Hannah curled up on the chair beside her, silent for a moment, as Jane waited for her to finally say something. 

“Hackett told me all about what you did for the krogan,” she said, finally, breaking the silence. “I’m proud of you. I know I’ve said that a lot recently, but I’m saying it again.” 

Jane picked at a piece of loose skin around her thumb. Hannah was getting at something, she always was. 

“You’ve always stuck up for people. Even if they’re not, well, human. You must get that from Annie.” She smiled. Eyes warm, glanced at the rotation of photos on the mantle. 

_I never even knew Annie_ , she wanted to say, but she continued to pick at her thumb until it turned red, blood threatening to spill through the pale skin. 

“She would be proud of you too, you know.” 

_No, I don’t know. She never even knew me._

“I was just in at HQ.” She took another sip, tapping her nails on the side of her bottle. “Everyone’s been asking if the rumors are true. If you’re alive.” She swallowed. “Well, not really asking. They know better to ask directly, but I know they want to.” 

The hangnail finally came loose with a sharp pain and a pinprick of blood. 

“Are you okay, darling? You don’t seem well.” 

She put her thumb between her lips. Copper, sharp. Her hands shook. 

“I’m worried about you.” 

When had she last eaten?

“Kaiden’s worried too. I spoke to him this morning.” 

Her face turned red, with anger or embarrassment but she wasn’t sure which. Kaiden called her mother? And not her? 

“Oh what, you and Kaiden are best friends now?” 

Hannah’s face scrunched, she pursed her lips, a sour expression on her face, like she was holding back a snarky comment. She knew because Joker used to tease her for making that same face, usually after an unhelpful debrief with the council or the Alliance or both. “He’s worried about you. I’m worried about you. What’s going on, why didn’t he come with you?” 

“He didn’t tell you?” She continued to pick at her thumb, despite the pain in caused, it was something to focus on rather than the tension in the air. “He’s angry at me. He called you. Not me.” 

Hannah frowned. Shepard knew that frown, it was the same frown she’d given her many times before. Usually when she was being stupid about something. When she found out about Kaiden. When she found out about Horizon. It made her blood pressure spike just looking at her. “Jane—“ 

“And don’t even start with those snarky remarks about him, because it’s my fault.” She put the beer down, curled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. “We got into a fight because I keep being stupid. And I know I’m being stupid but I can’t stop being stupid, no matter how hard I try.” A lump formed in her throat, tension pulling her chest into a tight ball, so condensed she felt like she might implode. Hannah’s eyes softened, but for some reason that only made her angrier, only wanted to make her throw something and watch it shatter, watch it make a mess of this home that had never been touched, never been lived in, at least by her. “This is your fucking fault,” she murmured, shaking her head. Words came out like vomit. She didn’t think, she didn’t decide, she didn’t even feel like they were her own. “You raised me for this. You raised me to be a soldier. Not a person.” 

“I know,” Hannah said, sadly, tiredly. She stood, resting her drink on the table, and joined her daughter on the couch, wrapping her arms around her, engulfing her in her body. Shepard grabbed tightly to her sweater, like holding onto a lifeline. No, it wasn’t her fault, not really. Hannah had saved her. Hannah had loved her, when she had no one—

“No—it’s not—I’m sorry.” She pressed her face into her mother’s sleeve. She smelled of Alliance-issue detergent and lavender. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m just—I’m angry. And I’m lost. And I don’t know why.” 

“It’s okay,” she told her, softly. She placed a hand on her forehead, brushed it along her crown, smoothing down Jane’s hair. She smiled. Sadly. But she smiled. Still. “I know how you feel. When I thought I lost you…when the Normandy was destroyed. I was angry. I wanted someone to blame. Someone who wasn’t myself.” 

Shepard glanced up at her mother, the storm within her pausing, just for a moment, to listen. They didn’t talk about those two years. At least, Hannah didn’t. Not that Jane had much to say on the matter. 

“I…I didn’t like the person I became while you were gone. I was angry, and I hated myself for endangering the one good thing I had left in life.” She rested her head against her daughter’s. “Kaiden apologized at your memorial. Told me it was his fault. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to hate him—”

His fault? She glanced at her mother, waiting for her to continue. “He made it so easy. I just wanted someone to be angry at, anyone that wasn’t me. Even if it meant hating someone I knew you’d loved. Who had brought you back from the brink when I—" she clicked her tongue, words sticking to the roof of her mouth. _When I couldn’t_. She didn’t have to say it. She knew. 

Hannah shook her head, glancing to the mantle. “He left that little dog at your memorial, did you know that? I don’t know why I saved that, of all things. He said you’d always wanted a dog. I…I never knew that about you. But he did. And I hated him for that—“

“Hannah—“ 

“Annie was supposed to be here, with you. She was supposed to retire, give you a better life. But instead you got stuck with me.” 

“Mom—“ 

“And you died because of it. You’re suffering. And I don’t even know how to help you.”

“Someone had to do it.” 

“Not you.” She hugged her daughter close. “Why does it always have to be you?” 

She took a deep breath. How often had she asked herself this, in her darkest, move private moments, when her thoughts were too deep to share with anyone? “Someone else might have gotten it wrong.” 

Hannah’s eyebrows scrunched together. She pursed her lips. “Does it? Or do you just keep telling yourself that?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She paused. Considered the question, glancing, again, to the mantle. That photo. Two braids instead of one. A messy cake made in the mess with pink icing. What was the cooks name? Lydia. Lily? Something like that. “I always knew you were a fighter. I think that’s what made me notice you, when your file came across my desk.” She shook her head. Closed her eyes. “After Akuze, I remember you telling me you were born to be a soldier. Without hesitation. Not a lot of people would say that after what you’d been through. Do you still feel that way?” 

She glanced at her mother, at her softly aged features, her dark hazel eyes. She didn’t have an answer, if she was honest, but wasn’t that enough of an answer in itself? 

“What else would I do?” She asked, glancing down at her hands. Blood had made a home in the nail bed of her thumb, tracing itself around the curve. 

“Live. Beyond just surviving.” She nodded, glanced over her shoulder, one last time, at the girl in the photo. No scar through her eyebrow. No cybernetics beneath her skin. Just a girl, no idea what was ahead of her. “That part of yourself fought so hard to get you here. So that you can heal. So you can be free. Let go of her. Of that part of yourself that can’t stop fighting. This is what she fought for.” She barely looked at her. Maybe this was for her daughter, but maybe she, herself, needed to hear this too. “Don’t let her hard work be in vain by choosing battles that aren’t even your own. You don’t have to keep doing this just because you always have. But you have to let yourself be free.” 

She nodded. Took a deep breath. Hannah knew it. She knew it. Hell, even Kaiden knew it. But what was on the other side of that girl, fighting tooth and nail to survive? Was she still the same person, someone who could be loved, someone her friends would even recognize? “What if I don’t like that version of myself? What if no one does?” 

“I do,” Hannah smiled. Nodded. “I do. I always have. She’s always going to be there when you need her. But you don’t anymore. You don’t have to keep fighting. If there’s anyone in this world that deserved peace, it’s you.” 

She nodded, her chest tightening, arms wrapped around herself in a tight hug. “Where will I go?” 

“Anywhere.” She smiled, placed her hand over hers. “Anywhere you’d like, darling.” 

“That’s not as comforting as you think it is.” 

“Then I think I have something in mind.” Her eyes lit up, in that moment, in a way they hadn’t in many years, since they’d met. Since Ann died. Maybe Hannah was right. But Hannah, at least, had an idea of what was buried under years of scars and hurt. She had nothing. No idea who she was, if anyone, before she’d slipped into her armor the first time. 

“We’ll do it together. You and me and Kaiden.” She nodded, barely even talking to Jane at this point. More just thinking out loud, if anything. “We’re gonna figure this out together. I promise.” 

She hugged Hannah. Pressed her face into the fabric of her jacket. That, at least, was comforting. Together. 

No matter what happened, at least she wasn’t alone.


	38. History Repeats

Cheap trinkets in the windowsill. Few would describe Hannah as sentimental, a romantic. But just because she didn’t bring it on ships didn’t mean she didn’t have it at all.  
Ann’s side of the mantle told a longer story than Shepard’s. Clear and bright. She would have been fifty-five this year. It’s hard to imagine that she was younger than Shepard was now when her ship burned in the atmosphere of a hostile planet. That Hannah had been just twenty-two when they’d met. Younger than she was when she’d survived Akuze. 

Tucked behind her photo was a snow globe. The liquid inside was tinged yellow with age, and some of the snow floated uselessly at the top of the dome, prematurely revealing a water-damaged picture of her and Ann smiling with some sort of canyon in the background. The flora was bright, unnaturally so, it certainly wasn’t taken on Earth, most likely not even in the Sol system. Perhaps Hannah had mourned the fact that she had barely known Ann, but really, she barely knew _Hannah_. Why had she saved such a little trinket? Why was it placed with such importance? 

Then there was her own memorial. That ever-twitching picture of her in her too-big uniform, her bright smile, and the medal she refused to wear. Her dog tags—ceremoniously given, as they were still glossy and appeared to have never been worn—were coiled in a heap like a snake. They were cold to the touch, embossed with her name. Part of her wanted to take them. She missed their familiar weight around her neck, she felt naked without them, but she remembered what Hannah said about letting go and left them where they lay. 

And then there was that dog that Kaiden had left. Obviously some airport tchotchke, the kind of thing you buy on impulse when you forget someone’s birthday. Somehow that made it worse; had he seen this after her death, overcome by how much it made him think of her? He’d said sorry to her mother. _Sorry_. He’d never said much about those two years she was gone, and for her it was all too easy to forget that time even existed. Did he still think it was his fault? 

She sensed movement behind her, and she turned to Hannah was standing there, watching her, twirling her keys around her finger. “Credit for your thoughts?” She asked her daughter. 

Shepard bit her lip. It was hard to remember what Hannah was like in those few short years before Ann had died. Much easier to remember her as she was; cold, calculating, quick to anger at times. But she had her moments when she returned, and it was then that the different was stark; there was a brilliance about her that had been dampened. A brightness that had diminished. She didn’t smile and tease as much, like the day they had met. Like something was missing. Even when that softness showed, only around her, just for a moment, she was quick to flinch, to harden up and hide it away again. 

Had she done that to Kaiden, when she died? Fuck, was she still doing that to him?

“How did you get through it?” She asked, finally. Hannah squinted, giving her an inquisitive look. “Ann. How did survive losing her?”

The sigh that left her mother’s lips as she glanced at the other side of the mantle was thick with the weight of the world. It was a question she never dared ask. An answer she never dared know. 

She shook her head, drummed her fingers across the mantle. “They day they cremated her, I got there before her family did. I wanted to see her, one last time. Alone.” 

And she hasn’t even left a body behind. No closure. No final goodbyes. An empty coffin and ashes that did not contain a molecule of the person they represented. “I can’t imagine.” 

“I hardly recognized her, with her injuries. That was to be her last assignment — the complications from her L2 were becoming more severe, and she wanted to start a family. She wanted you. And the future we always planned together—that was dead now too.” 

Ann was an L2? More to the list of ways history repeated itself. Of ways she hoped things wouldn’t end.

“I just stood there crying,” Hannah continued “I held her hand—it still felt like her. I wanted so badly to crawl in that coffin and go with her. Sometimes I think part of me—the best parts of me—did.” She closed her eyes. Shook her head again. “So you answer your question? I didn’t. At least, not all of me did.” 

“Mom—“ 

“Grief changes you. Forever.” She told her, confirming the fear that lay in the pit of her stomach. “Why do you ask?” 

Had Kaiden changed in those years she was gone? Certainly. They had more divisive experiences than shared ones, he had over two years of painful existence on her. She’d never had to mourn him. There has been moments, of course, jolts of fear that made her blood go cold; Virmire, the Citadel, Mars. A life flashed before her eyes in those moments. Not hers. His. Theirs. Every seconds they had shared; every stolen hiss, every time their eyes met in the war room, every fight they’d ever had, every night they’d spent together. It was those moments that struck fear into her heart, moments that felt like falling, like having the wind knocked out of her, her head spinning for hours afterwards, even when she knew he’d be okay. But she hadn’t watched him die. She hadn’t lived two whole years knowing he was gone. Those years had been easy on her. Like sleeping. But he—

“Jane?” Her mother’s voice snapped her out of the spiral of thoughts. Her face was rife with concern. That’s not even to mention the pain she had caused her mother in those years she was gone. Hannah had truly lost everything, yet she was always pushing aside her own pain for her. No need to burden her more. 

“I’m fine,” she turned, making her way toward the door. “We should get going.” 

****

Kaiden’s eyes hardly brought color to mind anymore; just feelings. Warmth. Safety. Kindness. 

It was over. Finally over. Or rather, as over as it could be. The council was safe. The citadel was being put together again as they spoke. Anderson was going to be the first human councilor. For the first time in weeks, she let her shoulders fall. Closed her eyes. We did it. We won. 

Not without a few bumps and scratches. A hairline fracture on her left forearm. A probable concussion. A considerable gash across her head. But these, too, would heal, sooner rather than later under Chakwas care. She’d stepped out for a moment after easing the pain, setting the ball of healing in motion. She said she had something in her footlocker that should help keep her forehead from scarring, not that it mattered to her, but this is how Chakwas shows affection, and so Shepard let’s her fuss. She waited, poised on the side of the bed in the medbay, her arm burning with the motions of rapid healing. Her wrist tingled with static, more uncomfortable than painful, and she tried and failed to shake the feeling out. 

And then the door hisses open, and he was there, clicking around on a datapad (although this must have just been an excuse to make his visit seem more casual, since it was blank when he set it on the counter). He cleared his throat. Was that a blush? 

“Commander,” he acknowledged her, clearing his throat, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “How are you feeling?”

Perhaps neither of them could define the shape of their relationship now. All he knew was the shock of not knowing where she was for those few terrifying seconds, of the way he felt gutted; like a vital organ had gone missing, like he was slowly bleeding out on the inside. Then the triumph of her bruised and bloodied return; her form soaring over rubble, her face bloodied and grinning, the way his heart flew open when he saw her, the way he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her. _I thought I’d lost you._

So near was the memory of the first time he held her; that fateful day on Eden Prime. How willing she was to trade her life for his, to push him out of harms way as her own form writhed in pain. It was the first time he realized how small she was beneath the ferocity; her crimson eyelashes twitching with activity, her face soft. Despite it all; despite the adrenaline pumping in his ears the horror of seeing his fellow man turned into something unrecognizable, of having to take charge as his commanding officer fell, he remembered the way she smelled. Like Alliance-issue detergent and soap. Not overpoweringly floral or sweet. Like clean linen, sun-dried laundry, fresh cut grass. Like her. 

She’d scared him. He didn’t realized that until they returned, the relief that washed over him when she opened her eyes to meet his. That lurking feeling of dread that she might be hurt was undeniable. He was afraid of losing her; and not just as a commanding officer. They were friends, as much as she’d probably refuse to admit. And he had a soft spot for her. 

“Better.” The words caught in her throat. Should she say it? How much he meant to her? She’d never loved someone the way the thought she loved him, never allowed someone to see the part of her that he had. But Kaiden was different, his exterior unweathered from the cruelty he’d witnessed. Before she met him, she would have wielded the word ‘soft’ as an insult. But he was a brilliantly soft lover. A rare friend. The kind of person who would listen to your problems all night long, who remembered how she liked her coffee and made it for her, the only person who always asked if she was okay in a way she knew he wanted an honest answer. She had to try harder. For him. “Better. Now that you’re here.” 

He smiled, and she slipped off the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He smiled, as if he were hoping for this, soft and warm when he kissed her deeply, when he pulled her closer, his hand splayed around her waist. So gentle. Most people, including herself, would never think Commander Shepard wanted gentleness. Yet she craved it, with him, the way he traced the angle of her jaw, the way his fingers lifted her chin. Gentle, even as he pressed her against the desk. She leaned back on one arm, pulling him closer by the collar with the other, his breath filling her lungs with every—

The doors hissed, and Kaiden jumped back, attempting to smooth his shirt. Chakwas raised her eyebrows, glancing at the space between them; too close for friendship. Too close for deniability. 

“Neither of you are slick, you know,” she deadpanned, placing the tray of medical equipment down on the bedside table without looking up at them. 

“You knew?” 

She smiled. Shook her head in disbelief. “I thought. Now I know,” she answered plainly, but with a smirk. “Just do try to be more careful. I’d hate to see either of you face consequences for this.” She said this earnestly, no sharp edge of a threat. 

“Thanks, doc.” He took Shepard’s hand, traced little circles in the top of her palm with his thumb, and in that moment she loved him wildly, unlike anyone she had ever loved before. 

****

Detroit smog was no joke. Even before the Reapers, the air quality was foul, his Omni warning him of prolonged exposure to the air near the factory district. Repairs weren’t nearly as progressive at those in Vancouver or London; most windows were repaired with only plywood, and the smell of smoke still lingered. _So this is where Shepard grew up._ Certainly this wasn’t exactly the highlight of city; even Vancouver had a seedy underbelly. But from what little she had told him, this was it. Her side of the railroad tracks, so to speak.

He’d lied to her. And of course she’s known it. They knew each other too well to get away with that. But it was a painless lie, he told himself, at least, it would be. He couldn’t get the hurt look in her eyes out of his head. _You’ll understand soon_ , he wanted to say. _I promise._  
Hannah would keep her safe and busy, keep her out of trouble, he hoped. And soon things would be better, if his hunch was right. This was his Hail Mary. 

But he lied to her. All he could do was make sure it was worth it.


	39. The Way Things Were

It almost winded her, how familiar it was. Like stepping into an old photo that didn’t exist.  
For a moment, it gave her pause. Despite being a whole four inches taller and at least fifty pounds heavier than the scrawny girl of fifteen who had arrived with nothing but the clothes on her back, for a moment she was back to her first day at Hannah’s basic training camp. It was hard to shake the feeling; but they were not in Detroit. She was nearly twenty years older and a thousand miles away. She was not a child with an out-of-control temper who could probably count the hot meals she’d eaten in the last year on one hand. She had survived that, and so much more. 

But there were key, and significant, changed, and the more she looked the more appeared. The Detroit Institute for Biotics (Or DIBs) as they tended to call it, had been built from the ground up, obviously by people who didn’t expect this to be a home for children. The sinks were too high, and there was very little color to be found anywhere; just dark grey and Alliance blue. The courtyard was taken over by training equipment; rock walls, muddy trenches, obstacle courses and shooting ranges. 

But this was more obviously a school. There was a small, but colorful, playground. A mural with child-sized handprints by what she could only assume was the mess. It had been carved out of the old barracks, once so outdated they were hardly used, but Hannah had made them their own. Each ‘cabin’ as the signs referred to them as was named after a constellation; Cassiopeia, Orion, Perseus. Colorful flags decorated the entryways, and there were boot prints in the mud, clear signs of life, although no children were to be found. According to her Omni, it was 0950. Class must have been in session.

“Camp Shepard, huh?” She grinned, running her hand along the name embossed along a black metal structure near the entrance. “You’ve gotten soft, mom.” 

She rolled her eyes, directing her gaze away from her smirking daughter. “And who says it’s for you? I’m a Shepard. So was my mom. And my wife. Don’t be so conceded.” 

Shepard grinned, glancing at the bronze sculpture above the inscription. It was odd to see her own features reflected back her her. She was in her armor, her shoulders a bit more broad than they currently were in life. But her nose was as crooked as it had always been, and her face was set in a look of determination. It was obviously modeled from a younger, more flattering time; before Cerberus, even, if she had to take a guess. Perhaps when she had become a spectre? 

“Really mom? That’s you?” She teased. 

“It’s a memorial, dummy. You know. From all the times I thought you’d died.” 

“Sure. And you named a camp for biotics after yourself? A non-biotic?” 

Hannah scoffed, shaking her head. Looking away from her bronze doppelgänger, Shepard turned her attention to a smaller inscription. It felt too weird to read about herself; but she couldn’t help but catch the first line. _Commander Jane Annebeth Shepard was the first—_

“Was?” She asked, scanning further down the inscription. All past tense.

Hannah frowned. “I’m working on changing it. I told you. We thought—I thought—“ She swallowed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Shepard shrugged. “It’s not like I expected to survive either. This is what you’ve been working on since the war ended?” 

“Long before that,” she waved, signaling Shepard to follow. They passed the courtyard, around the playground equipment and toward what appeared to be a number of classroom buildings. The windows were dimmed, thick, likely bullet-proof from whatever the buildings original purpose was. Hannah beamed as they walked past; they could hear a woman’s voice faintly though the walls, too muffled to discern what call they were eavesdropping on. “I did little else in those two years I lost you. Most of it was fighting for every dollar — they didn’t want a school for biotics. They wanted a training camp. They wanted soldiers, not students. But there’s no reason for children to grow up so fast, as you did. They deserve to be children too.” 

“It seems like you’re well-funded now.” 

“Thanks to Anderson.” She smiled, sadly. Pointed to the the steps, which bore a similar plaque to the one outside. Anderson Hall. “He left his entire estate to building place. And now, it’s thriving.” 

“It looks amazing. Kaiden would love to see this too. It’s everything we wished we would have had.” 

“That was the goal. I asked myself what I wished I would have done differently. What I wish I could have given you.” She smiled. Looked around the courtyard, lovingly. “I did little else while you were gone. Being here…in a way it felt like having you back.” 

“Mom—“ What was there to say? I’m sorry this is all you had left? That this is all I left you?  
“Come. I didn’t just bring you here to be sentimental,” she gestured, again, trying to get her daughter to come quickly. She led her past a black metal gate—it required a card to open, which Hannah produced from a lanyard tucked into her uniform. A sign read BIOTICS DIVISION — AUTHORIZED STUDENTS ONLY. 

“Not all the students are biotics?” Shepard asked. This building, at least, was newer than the rest. She didn’t recognize it from her supervised walks during house arrest. It was white, mostly, with yet another keycard entrance. Hannah pulled out her land yard once again and lead her inside. A plaque on the door read JANE SHEPARD MEMORIAL HALL — BIOTIC LABS, and once again warned against unauthorized students. 

“Not all of them are powerful biotics, no. Some of them come because they have no one else to go. Not talented enough to fight—“ 

“But talented enough to be a danger,” Shepard finished. “Where have I heard that one before?”  
“Mostly they just get a general education, like they would at any other school. When they’re old enough, we outfit them with the appropriate implants, and teach them enough to be in control. Only those who choose to do so advance their studies.”

“You give them a choice?” 

“As much as I can.” She shrugged, shook her head. “Most still enlist. I can only do so much — I can’t change how the world feels about biotics —but we do what we can to prepare them for life outside of the Alliance should they choose.” 

“It’s more than most have done.” 

She smiled. Took a moment, it seemed, to beam with pride. “They’re children. We owe them that much.” 

The halls were rather clean, with colorful billboards decorating the walls. Alliance blue lockers dominated most of the hallway, but they weren’t as conservative as one would expect from a camp. They were covered with personal affects; stickers, decorations, one student had even covered their in pictures of friends and family. Normal children. Or rather, as normal as they could be. 

“We took many of the younger students from Grissom while they try to get back on their feet,” Hannah continued to explain, gesturing to a tattered flag with the Grissom Academy logo hanging from a window. Shepard suspected a student had swiped it when they’d come to their aid. “But that’s not all we borrowed.” 

She took a sharp left and knocked on a classroom door, flinging it open before Shepard could read the name printed on the glass. A familiar face sat at the front of the room; looking only a little worse for wear as she typed away at a computer, a scowl on her face. If she had to hazard a guess, she was grading exams. She glanced up, finally, her eyes narrowing at the two of them, not an ounce of surprise on her face. 

“Jack?” 

“Who else?” She rolled her eyes, like she was an idiot for being surprised to see her there.  
“What are you doing here?” 

“What does it look like? Teaching.” She responded, curtly, still not looking up from her device. She paused, reading something, scowling and shaking her head again. “Long story, but I’m here now.” 

“I have other matters to attend to,” Hannah interjected in a fake cheery voice. “But I’ll let you two catch up. Darling, come to my office in the courtyard when you’re done. See you soon!” 

Before Shepard could offer any protest, she was long gone, the door slamming behind her. Without a moment of hesitation, Jack stood and glanced at the door, as if checking that Hannah had really left. She seemed to relax when she confirmed her absence, leaning against the desk and crossing her arms. “Jesus Shepard, I take back every time I called you Queen of the Girl Scout. Your mom rules with an iron fist.” 

“I take it you’re not exactly getting along?” 

“I can tolerate her. When she leaves me alone?” She shook her head. “She never shut up about you. It’s unbearable.” 

“How’d you end up here, Jack? I thought you wanted to go back to Grissom.” 

“I did. And that’s what I told your mom when she tracked me down,” she tapped her fingers on the desk. On the corner of the white board was a drawing, obviously a caricature of Jack, judging by the tattoos and the sharp teeth. Affectionately drawn, if she were to guess, or else Jack found it too funny to erase. “But she tracked down my kids too, convinced them to come here. And so here I am.” 

“She wanted you that badly?” 

“Who wouldn’t?” Jack said, sharply, looking up at her from her down turned expression. “Fine. I’m good, but I’m not that good. She had her ulterior motives.” 

“Jack, not everyone—“

“I’m supposed to not-so-subtly convince you to work here.” 

“—is out to get you. I’m sorry, what?” Jack rolled her eyes, like the answer was obvious. 

“She wants to you take over her position when she leaves. At least I hope so. If there’s gonna be two of you hovering around, I’m quitting.” 

“Why? Where’s my mom going?” 

Jack shrugged, like she had no idea, but her expression told another story. She sighed. “Apparently to take Hackett’s position, but you didn’t hear it from me.” 

“I guess that tracks. But why me? What would I even do? I’m not exactly…I don’t know…good with kids?” 

“Look, to be fair, I wasn’t either,” Jack defended, her eyebrows knitted together. “But I guess her logic is if you’re here, you’re not off getting yourself killed somewhere else.” 

Shepard paused. Jack wasn’t looking at her—was making a point not to look at her, her head turned away as if she were looking at a very interesting speck on the floor. “She said that?” 

“Not those exact words maybe,” Jack answered. “But she didn’t have to. She’s scared shitless, Shepard. You shouldn’t fuck with someone who cares about you like that.” 

“So what? You think I should take the nepotism, just so she doesn’t have to worry?” 

“I’m saying you should stop being such a prideful ass and considering it, for two seconds,” Jack snapped, finally. “You know how bad shit is for these kids. How bad it was for us. And Hannah’s the only one giving these kids a fighting chance.” 

Shepard couldn’t help but smile. She too had worn that look on Jack’s face before; that day in the cafeteria, when she’d broken that girls had for speaking bad about Hannah. “You must really like my mom, huh?”

“Shut up,” Jack scowled. 

“It’s sweet. I bet she had a soft spot for you too.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Jack retorted, shaking her head and returning to finish her work at her desk. “Now get out of my classroom before I hand in my resignation.” 

“Missed you too, Jack,” she told her, quietly, slipping out the door. She glanced behind her before she closed it, watched Jack’s eyes scan her computer. She smiled to herself, clearly pleased with what she was looking at. Shepard knew the feeling. Watching your young recruits grow into senior officers, go on to do amazing things…

Shit. Maybe Jack was right. 

********

He wasn’t far from the place they’d held her memorial—he didn’t realize his plans would bring him so close.

She would have hated that they held it here, of all places, he remembered thinking. She may have been the on-and-off again pride and joy of Detroit, but she detested the place. Had there been any piece of her in that urn, it would have been flipping that place off. 

He had been in a dark place then, darker than he’d been since BRAIN camp. He’d had no choice but to step up in the immediate aftermath of her death; he couldn’t allow time to think or feel. Complete tunnel vision. More machine than man. It had all happened so slowly, then quickly, all at once. He remembered Chakwas grabbing his arm. _Please. Turn it off. It does nothing for you to hear this._ But he’d listened to her final, panicked breaths; hearing them over and over again every time he closed his eyes. At the end of the day, he’d caused that. Why hadn’t he disobeyed orders? Why had he listened? Shepard always questioned orders when they didn’t sit right with her. But he’d left her to die.

He didn’t have time to contemplate that in the moment. All that mattered was getting the rest of the crew to safety—and he was next in the chain of command. It was his burden to bear now, and until that moment he never truly understood how heavy it must have felt on her shoulders. 

It took so long to get his brain out of survival mode, to get himself to stop barking orders, pause and take inventory of what had happened. He made it well past the rescue envoy, past the crew with their crinkly emergency blankets and their looks of shock. He made it past arrival on the Citadel, where he barely registered booking a flight home without so much as saying goodbye. He made it through the station, into the cab, all the way to his childhood home in Vancouver. His mother greeted him at the door, sweeping him into a tearful embrace, and even then, he felt empty. As much as he wanted to rage, to feel sorrow, to spit and cry and scream; there was nothing but that damn tunnel vision. That adrenaline-fueled need to survive.  
Half a dozen messages came in overnight; from Joker, from Chakwas, and Garrus and Liara and Tali and everyone he’d shared a ship with for the past year, begging to know where he had gone so suddenly and if he was okay. Even Anderson sent at least two messages that he couldn’t bring himself to read. Jane had been like a daughter to him. He couldn’t imagine what he had written to him. 

He hadn’t even RSVP’d to the memorial, or even mentioned it to his parents. He simply packed his bags, methodically, carefully, and arranged for a ride to Detroit so early even the birds hadn’t begun to stir yet. 

He arrived an hour early. Too much time to be alone with his own thoughts. His parents hadn’t been to the states very often, he recalled thinking. He should glance in the window for a souvenir. 

And that’s when it hit him. A toy shop. A little display of bean-filled toys in the window. A German Shepard. A dog. She wanted a dog. And now she’d never get to have one.

It was like being hit with a bus, the way it slammed into him; like his whole chest had imploded, so forcefully it nearly had him doubled over, like taking a bullet to the chest. So suddenly he felt everything at once; anger, sorrow, fear. What the fuck has just happened? Those months now felt like a blur, all mixed up in his head, and he couldn’t remember what kind of dog she said she’d wanted. The way her laugh sounded. If those freckles on her back formed the Big Dipper or the Little Dipper. If her hair had been long or short the night, they had slept together the first time. 

_Her coffee. She took her coffee with two sugars and no cream. She liked to wait until it was nearly room temperature before she drank it; he never knew if it was because she didn’t like it hot, or if she was always too distracted to actually sit down for once._

Somehow, he ended up in the store. Somehow, he ended up with the dog in his hands, although he didn’t remember how or if he’d even paid for it. All he remembered was sitting on a bench somewhere close to the Alliance Memorial Park, trying to force himself to breathe, barely remembering who he was or what he was doing there, why he had this little dog in his hands, why it felt like the world—

Shit. Shit shit _shit._ He was panicking, all the emotions he should have felt days ago springing on him at once in an ambush. He dropped the dog in the dust, his fingers refusing to coordinate with this rest of his body, his lungs seizing, ears ringing, everything suddenly too loud and too close and yet so distant he knew no one was around to help. He was cold and he was lost. He was alone. He was alone like she had been. Fuck. _Fuck_. She must have been so scared. He could hear it in her breath, the panic. All alone. Left to die. 

Suddenly a hand reached out, plucked the pathetic little creature from the ground and dusted it off. He couldn’t even force himself to look up (when had he put his head between his knees anyway?); even if he wanted to, he felt like he was going to be sick, like the whole room had just been spinning in some twisted recreation of a carnival ride. His whole body ached, like he’d been running for miles, but the hand on his shoulder steadied him, stopped the shaking he didn’t even know was there. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Look up. Liara. 

She hugged him, hard, the kind of hug that you couldn’t pull out of if you wanted to. She said something he couldn’t remember if he tried, and sat with him for a moment, helped pick up the pieces as best she could. She helped brush the wrinkles of the dress uniform he didn’t even remember putting on that morning. They were late. 

Of course, her funeral was such a shitshow no one even noticed they’d come late anyway. Most of Shepard’s friends had been ushered to the back, making way for the more important people regardless if they’d ever so much as exchanged pleasantries when she was alive. He remembered being pulled by the arm into a gathering, hardly noticing he was suddenly surrounded by the people Shepard considered family. Someone reached out to him. Tali? It most have been Tali—he remembered something hard digging into his shoulder when she hugged him, telling him she was sorry, _so so so so sorry._

She wasn’t the only one who whispered condolences as a chaplain Shepard had surely never known droned about her accomplishments. But he could hardly remember; he was too focused on staying upright, on opening and closing his hands too keep the static at bay, singing mantras to himself to keep himself grounded. Black. Two sugars, the real stuff, not the artificial. No cream. And that mug she always used; what did it say? Something funny. Or maybe it was a souvenir from one of their shore leaves. He couldn’t remember anymore, and it was gone now, shattered to a million pieces, burnt to a crisp in the atmosphere. 

He didn’t even realize an hour had passed; the services concluded with taps played by a stocky boy with acne. Perhaps some of the officials crowding the front made motions to talk with him, but his eyes had already met hers: Hannah. 

He’d never seen her in person. She was tall. Much more put-together than he was, although she couldn’t hide the puffiness in her eyes. Her arms were folded around a folded American flag (was Hannah even American? He couldn’t remember), and she froze when she looked at him. Did she know? Of course, she knew. Of course, she knew he had loved her, that he’d let her die and did nothing. Part of him wished she’d been angry with him, had slammed her fists into his chest and screamed _my baby, my baby is dead. My baby is dead and it’s all your fault._ At least then he would know the truth. 

But instead she stared. I’m realty, she might have been wondering who the strange, disheveled man with a stuffed animal was doing, staring her down at her daughter’s memorial. The crowd practically parted for him, faces turning into a blur. He thought he felt someone try to reach for his collar, to try to stop him, but he pressed on until he was standing right in front of her; their eyes still locked. Her expression was unreadable. Confused more than anything, he thought, but perhaps she had no idea who he was. 

There was a small table beside her with pictures and gifts, memories he wasn’t a part of, memories that would fade with every minute she was gone. 

_Jane lying next to him, his fingers tracing down the curve of her shoulders, her spine, the small of her back; memories of the way she’d sighed his name into his open mouth just moments before. Jane lacing up her boots as she sat at the end of her bed, one side of her hoodie slipping off her shoulder. Jane in the cockpit, the way she rested her chin over her folded hands on the back of Joker’s chair until he got annoyed with her hovering and told her to stop breathing down his neck. Jane on poker night with her hair tucked into a little tuft at the nape of her neck, dark eyes peering above her cards._

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry,” was all he managed to say. He would be surprised if she understood anything he was saying, he barely understood himself. He left the dog behind, next to a picture of her as a teenager; her hair was in two braids instead of one. That girl was never going to get her dog. 

All the times she’s saved his life; and he’d failed to return the favor. 

He should have stayed. Even if it didn’t change things, at least she wouldn’t have been alone when she died. 

Hannah scrutinized him, her face pinched in thought. Realization must have struck her, because her eyes widened. She knew him. Or at least, knew of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked, one last time, his throat burning. He couldn’t face her anymore; couldn’t face the way her shoulders slumped. He stumbled away without another word, familiar faces blurred as he passed. Someone tried to stop him, but he slipped out of their grasp, wandering until he got his head on straight enough to call a car. His heart hummed with birdsong. _My fault. My fault. My fault._


	40. I'm Trying

__

_Her eyes were softer in the fuzzy image in his head. The recruitment posters didn’t do her justice. She was thinner in them, less muscular (a fact she would have hated, she was always challenging crew to arm wrestling matches when she drank and proudly won every one). Someone had photoshopped her lips to be redder, her eyelashes thicker and darker, and her freckles had been blurred. Maybe it was a good thing she was almost unrecognizable. Had it been her spitting image, he would have been frozen in place in the middle Montreal station, unable to tear his eyes away. He still remembered, with near perfect clarity, the sound of her voice._

_Several months after the Normandy went down, he’d used his vacation time for the first time in nearly a year. It was winter, or rather, the closest thing to winter they had at the time. Maine hadn’t seen snow in years, at least, not anything that didn’t result in a thick and unsatisfactory slush that ended up in your boots no matter how hard you tried. Those days, he didn’t take a lot of time off. It was easier to take task after task from command, to do as he was told until there wasn’t much room to think anymore. He started to see a different person in the mirror, someone he’d fought so hard to heal, to move on, to grow away from. He tried not to think about it._

_He came home because it would be god-knows-how-long until he had another chance, and his mother was clearly worried for him. An old family friend was getting married and expected the whole Alenko clan in tow. Not exactly the place he wanted to be, but better than haunting his childhood home while his mother looked at him like a puppy she’d accidentally kicked.  
Most of the ceremony was a blur, but the reception was memorable. Looking back, it was probably the last time he saw people happy; not an ounce of worry on their shoulders before everything went to hell. Their first dance was to a song he didn’t recognize—something upbeat and new. He guessed he didn’t realize how long it’s been since he’d been planetside. _

_He felt quiet and awkward at the reception, the out-of-place feeling coming more from the inside than out. He didn’t appear to stick out in his dress blues, the dance floor was a sea of stiff navy blue. Had this happened last year, he would have been glowing, meeting up with old friends, laughing, drinking, trying desperately to catch up. But he was changed, he felt, and everyone around him could sense it, like a wounded animal singled out of a pack. It had been so long since he’d done anything but work, and hardly felt like he knew how to talk to anyone anymore. The only personal development he’d had was the Normandy’s loss, and it wasn’t exactly the place to talk about that, nor did he want to._

_He was content to watch, to nurse a whiskey on the rocks in the corner, to at least attempt to absorb some of the happiness around him, remember that it wasn’t all doom and gloom. At the head table, the maid of honor was laughing with her date, her dark hair reflecting red in the candlelight. A pang of loss hit him; he wished Shepard was here._

_No, she couldn’t be, even if she wanted to, and he couldn’t even be sure she’d want to. Regs wouldn’t allow it, too many Alliance eyes, not to mention his father. But it was a pretty dream to have; imagining her with her hair pinned back, in a dark dress with a low back, holding her close on the dance floor until he could feel her heat, and she would rest her head on his chest._

_They’d danced together, just once, the only time he’d really been certain she had meant as much to her as she had to him. They were out celebrating—what was it again? It must have been a send-off party for someone. Maybe Garrus. They were on a Citadel, drinking. Joker had started some kind of drinking game — what was it called? Kings cup? Shepard, who’d taken almost an hour of convincing to play and only joined after almost everyone had left, was bad at it. Worse the more she drank, she fumbled and forgot the rules, but the game dissolved after a few rounds as people got too tipsy to remember they were playing and broke off into smaller groups. Soon Garrus had to be on his way, and Kaiden knew Shepard must have been drunk, because she declared loudly to him how much his friendship meant to her and hugged him so hard the Turian flinched, making the whole table laugh._

_Kaiden had hardly realized that it was late. They’d been talking for a while but had fallen into a lull, but he was watching her stab at the ice in her drink with her straw. Suddenly she looked up._

_“You got a staring problem, Alenko?”_

_Eyes shifted at the bar, avoiding the conversation. Several crew left or avoided the conversation, her tone misconstrued as aggression. Or was it? No, he was right, he had to be. The twitch at the corner of her mouth was no illusion. It was a smirk. Was she…flirting?_

_They’d still been awkwardly navigating their space after Illos. What did this mean for them? For their friendship? For their relationship, if there was one to speak of? She hadn’t really spoken of it, hadn’t really had time to where the walls didn’t have ears. He looked around. How long has they been the only ones left? The bar was nearly empty. It was just them and the bartenders, a human and a turian, who were chatting on the other side of the room._

_Kaiden flushed, hoping the darkness of the room would hide his face. “We should head back to the ship soon, shouldn’t we?”_

_“Mmmh. Not yet,” she protested, her tone that of a child asking to stay up past their bedtime. But she stood anyhow, stumbling a bit. Kaiden rose to help her, and she fell against him, not-so-accidentally, resting against him with a sigh and wrapping her arms around his neck. He glanced around, one more time. They were alone._

_“I love this song,” she told him, closing her eyes. He smiled, holding her close—he’d never heard the song before. It was old, something his parents might have liked when they were his age. He couldn’t remember the lyrics. He’d searched for it everywhere after the crash, trying to remember any of the words, as if he could find pieces of her between the notes and stitch her back together._

_For a moment, they were one united being, swaying softly with the music. He pressed his face into the top of her head; her hair was always softer than he remembered._

_They must have been there a long time. The turian approached them eventually, clearing his throat. “Sir? I’m sorry, but we’re closing soon.”_

_“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled, and he pulled her by the hand outside. The Citadel was climate controlled, and so it wasn’t cold, although it felt like it should be. He missed that about earth. Leaving a bar too late, when the air was cool and full of static, making the hair stand up on the back of your neck. He realized halfway to the docks that he’d never let go of her hand. But she hadn’t let go either._

_“Oh, um, sorry,” he murmured, taking his hand back and wiping it on his pants._

_“What are you apologizing for?” She rolled her eyes, stumbled into him and wrapped herself around his arm, smiling. “You’re so Canadian. That’s why you’re my favorite.”_

_“Favorite what?” He chuckled, “Favorite Canadian? Not much of a compliment, ma’am, you don’t know a lot of Canadians.”_

_She rolled her eyes again, tugging on his arm, like he was being stupid. “No, I mean I like you.”  
His ears felt hot. Was she saying what he thought she was? “Well I think you’re pretty swell, too.”_

_“Swell?” She scrunched her face up, like the word disgusted her. “I can’t believe you just called me_ swell _. God, you’re lucky you’re pretty.”_

_“I’m what, Commander?” He teased._

_“You’re pretty and I like you,” she repeated, blatantly. “No. I love you, Kaiden Alenko. I loooovvveee you,” she mused, laughing, hiccupping._

_“You do?” After that night, when he’d said it to her and she had said nothing, he was unsure. He grinned._

_“Yeah, I do. It’s weird,” she continued “We haven’t even know each other that long.”_

_“I know. But sometimes I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”_

_“I wish I had known you my whole life.”_

_“Yeah. Me too.”_

_They were close now, to the Normandy. Any closer and they’d have to act like this conversation never happened. He paused. Pressed his hand to the side of her face. She closed her eyes, and he kissed her, warmly, deeply. She whispered his name. He liked the way she said it, the way her lips formed the letter—_

_“Hey, Kaiden.”_

_He blinked, and the citadel docks disappeared. A woman around his age sat across from him; young, pretty, blondie. She had red lipstick on and a dark green velvet dress that brought out her light eyes. He was certain he’d met her before, but couldn’t find a name. She frowned._

_“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me.”_

_“I, I’m—“_

_“Angela.” She gave him a harrowing look. “Our dads were close friends?” Nothing. “We used to play on the same hockey team.” Nada. “I used to talk to you from the penalty box when you, uh, left the team.” Right. When he’d been kicked off the team. Because biotics were too much of a liability._

_“Oh, yeah. Right.” He hadn’t seen her since BRAIN camp. He wondered if she knew about that. If she knew about a lot of things._

_“So…you’re a major now? That’s cool,” she grinned, “heard your name more than a few times in the news, yeah? Bet you have lots of good stories.”_

_“Huh. Um, yeah. I guess I do.” He couldn’t help but grin. Where to start?_

_Then it hit him; there was nowhere to start. Nowhere that didn’t include her, and remembering made him feel like he was about to implode._

_He blinked. What was he doing? Shit, in a split second she’d been out of his life for longer than she’d been in it. They’d known each other for what? A year? And tolerated each other for even less than that._

_But he had loved her. Unlike anyone else he’d ever known, he felt seen by her. There was no awkward silence when he laid out the puzzle pieces of himself before her, still trying to make sense of it all himself. No pause, or gasp, or fret of how they’d could never put it back together again. She’d joined him in fitting the pieces together, even adding a few of her own before he’d ever realized they’d been missing before, or that he had some spares of his own that fit into hers perfectly. They just worked, in the simplest way possible. He never needed to explain himself, never needed to justify himself, and he hoped that she felt the same. And he couldn’t imagine finding someone else who fit so perfectly into that picture as she had._

_It was stupid, it felt stupid just thinking about it. You weren’t even dating, really. Can’t even even mourn openly because even his family didn’t know she was more than his commanding officer._ You barely knew each other for a year, you made it over thirty without her, and you’d make it many many more if you could just. Let. Go. __

_“I’m sorry.” He excused himself, quickly, too quickly, he spilled his drink on his way out. The damage was just to his uniform, no collateral, and so he cut his losses and made for the exit. Air. Shit. He needed air._

_It was snowing outside. Real, god-honest snow. Full white flakes, settling gently on the railing, like something out of a Christmas special. It was cold._

_She had never seen real snow on Earth. She would have loved this, would have teased him, pushed him into the snow, kissed him, like that night all those weeks ago, her nose red like the tip of her ears, her body warm and heavy over his. Had she ever gone ice skating? Had she ever had hot cocoa? Had she ever had a snowball fight?_

_The door opened with a sigh of song and warmth, and his mother appeared in the doorway, a frown on her painted face. Her heels crunched in the falling snow. She twirled her wedding ring around her finger, troubled._

_“Everything okay out here?” She asked, clearly knowing the answer. It felt odd to think about, but he realized he’d never seen Shepard outside of uniform. Well, he meant—wearing something other than a uniform. It was hard to imagine her here, in a place so far removed from the Alliance. She bled blue, there was no denying it, she probably would just wear her dress uniform. But he liked to imagine she had, at least once in her life, worn something that made her feel beautiful, let her hair fall down her shoulders, and danced somewhere out from under the eyes of people whose opinions she cared too much about. Perhaps he had not been there to see it, but he liked to imagine that moment lived somewhere before she—_

_“Kay.” His mother frowned. Shit, had she been taking to him? “Are you okay? You aren’t acting like yourself.”_

_“Uh, yeah, mom. Fine.”_

_“You’ve been so distant ever since…ever since the crash.” Not an accusation, but a statement. “Angela asked if you were single. I thought—“_

_“Mom.”_

_“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I should have known…She was more than just your commander.” Another statement. No room for debate. “It’s okay,” she added, before he could speak. “It stays between us.”_

_Kaiden stuttered for a moment, tongue tied on words he hadn’t even decided in yet. How long had she known?_

_“You have to live,” she continued, simply. “You barely knew her a year.”_

_“Easier said than done.”_

_“I know,” she murmured. “I know,” she repeated, quieter. “But you’ll try, won’t you? For me?”_

_Kaiden nodded, noncommittal. “Yeah,” he mumbled, after a moment. “I’ll try.”_

_She smiled. Glanced up at her son. “How did it happen?”_

_“What?”_

_“How did you fall so hard for her?”_

_He smiled. Shook his head._

_“I don’t know. I just did.”_

_Sometimes it still hurt to remember, such a painful and confusing time._

__

*****

“You have to come out of hiding eventually,” her mother said, peering over the top of her wire-framed glasses. Before she can glance behind to read her expression, Hannah has gone back to signing papers, head bowed at her desk. 

It was almost like being a child again. Well, not a child. But when she was young, helping her mother on ships, doing menial tasks that could have been delegated to a younger crew member, or perhaps even automated completely, just to keep her out of trouble. It used to annoy her endlessly; answering her mother’s messages, filling out maintenance forms, proofreading reports that were probably not meant for her eyes. But now it soothed her.   
She missed the routine. Every morning she’d wake at dawn, don her civies and the large blue Alliance hoodie that Kaiden must have ‘accidentally’ left behind for her. She would make a travel mug of coffee for her mother and herself and they’d head out to the school at 0500 sharp. She slept better back under the Alliance regimen; coming home too tired to fight it, too exhausted for nightmares. Just how she liked it. 

Most of her days started with checking attendance, taking phone calls from parents, updating students’ records. Mostly she hid away in her mother’s office, too scared that she’d be recognized, but occasionally she’d find reason to roam Vancouver. Her mother would send her to pick up lunch at a Thai place down the road, or else she’d make an excuse to get some air and wander around the park her and Kaiden had visited before leaving for Tuchanka. On that particular morning, the park had been nearly empty. She pulled her good down and felt the cool morning hair run its fingers through her hair for the first time in months. Her body aches for her old routine. She started to jog. 

It was only a matter of minutes before she met resistance. Of course, this was to be expected. She hadn’t worked out in months, and she’d spent weeks rotting away in a hospital bed. Her muscles had plenty of right to protest. But she had barely made it two-hundred meters when her heart began to race a little too fast, struggling under the effort, and her vision blurred. She tried to work past it, but the world only became hazier and hazier, shifting, her limps cold and numb. She paused, hand on a nearby bench, her head bowed in an effort to ground herself once again. Her hands, no, her whole world, shook, until she was forced to sink into the bench to regain her composure. Suddenly the crisp morning air was much too cold, cutting though Kaiden’s hoodie like it was nothing, and she realized she was very alone. She pressed her face into her hands, trying desperately to stop the spinning. Suddenly she was 23 again, wounded and confused, trying not to vomit up the meager ration bars she’d barely choked down into the presidium lake. But this time there was no well-intending man to ask if she was okay, there was no Anderson to offer her a second chance. The park was empty. She was alone. 

She wished Kaiden was there. He would have drawn circles around her spine until she felt grounded, said something that made her laugh, made her forget that the world was threatening to fall out from under her. His absence ached like a broken rib; constant, like a low hum. 

After what felt like hours, she finally caught her breath. Stilled her shaking enough to rise to her feet and make for the school, slowly but steadily. She was lucky no one was around to see her, she thought. How humiliating. The great Commander Shepard finally found alive, but barely surviving a brisk walk in the park. She imagined she must have looked a wreck when she entered her mother’s office; she was late as well. Her mother pursed her lips and said nothing. 

Until, well, now. 

“Why do I feel like you know something I don’t?” Shepard paused to read a message on her mother’s datapad. Another parent whose child had been dismissed from their school, just as they started to return after the Reapers hit their city hard. They were a bit young, but her mother would pull some strings. She always did. 

Hannah sighed. Stood tall from her desk, pacing. “The rumors of your survival are getting out of control. I had reporters wandering the school grounds this morning, I had to escort them off the premises myself. And then there’s Hackett—“ 

“What does Hackett want?” She perked up, the instinct of a solider receiving orders. 

“What doesn’t he want?” Hannah spat, clearly annoyed at her former captain. “He wants to to go public. He wants you back in the Alliance. He wants you to be the new human counselor—“ 

“I’m sorry—what?”

Hannah shook her head, exasperated. “He wants me to take over his position in a few months. But not before he continues to meddle in your life, apparently.” 

“I’m not a diplomat.” 

“Really? Could have fooled me,” she quipped without looking up. She glanced up, noticing her daughters worried expression. “I’m not displeased about the offer, you know. I think you’d be excellent at it. You’ve always been.” She smiled, “remember when I brought you to the human embassy on Palaven? God, how old were you then? Seventeen?” She shook her head, smiling. 

“I was so worried you’d misstep, mess up all the progress we’d made since the war. Sure showed me. Knew I brought you with for a reason.” 

“You told me it was a gesture of goodwill,” Shepard interjected “you don’t bring your child to enemy territory. 

“It was a gesture of trust. All you had to do was stand there.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Stand there, my ass! You nagged the whole way. Don’t stare, you’ve seen plenty of pictures, they’re not that weird looking! Straighten your uniform! Did you memorize that clan marking cheat-sheet like I told you to? God, I was ready to ask the general if he’d be willing to take me as a refuge by the time we docked.” 

“And do you remember what you said to the general?” 

“How could you ever let me forget? He asked what my real reason for being there was, and I told him I was a prop to get him to trust you.” 

Hannah laughed and shook her head. “I was furious, I could have dragged you off Palaven by the ear. But the general laughed. _Laughed._ I didn’t even _know_ Turians could laugh.” 

“You told me Turians valued honesty. I couldn’t lie.” 

“And you were right. He signed the deal we were negotiating. I don’t think he would have, had you not broken the ice,” she beamed, proudly. “I was trying to convince him to sign an exchange program for human engineering students. That treaty led to the Normandy being built. Did you know that?” 

“No…you never told me that.” 

“I guess I never made the connection until now,” she sighed, scratching her head. “My point is, you’ve always had a way with words. People trust you, human or not, because you’re fair, and you always try to do what’s right. You ended two seemingly endless wars like it was nothing. Give yourself some credit.” 

“So you think you should take it.” 

“I think I’m done making decisions for you,” Hannah responded, sharply. “But I think it would be wise to consider it, yes.”

“I thought you wanted me here, at the school.” 

Hannah made a noise of disgust in the back of her throat, shaking her head. “Knew I shouldn’t have trusted Jack.”

“So much for meddling in my life.” 

Hannah’s eyes shot daggers. 

“Sorry, I know you’re just trying to help,” Shepard added, quickly. “It’s…difficult. To imagine that kind of life right now.”

“But you’re trying, right?” Her mother’s voice was hopeful, soft, but worried. 

Shepard’s wrist vibrated. A message. From Kaiden. 

“I’m trying. Promise.”


	41. Reunions

_Pop_. The first target went down quickly, bullet piercing the throat. Not the head, not as clean as she’d like, but all things considering, she’d take it. Tongue between her teeth, she lined up another shot. 

She was grateful it was Saturday. Grateful that the shooting range was almost entirely off-limits to students without a staff member present, and more grateful that said staff members were probably long gone by now or else sleeping in. She missed the shooting range. Missed the way it forced her to focus on keeping her hands steady, on regulating her breathing. Once she realized there wasn’t much else to do after rushing Kaiden to Hutera after Mars, she’d gone almost immediately to the Spectre’s office to blow off some steam. It didn’t make her feel better as much as it kept her from staring at her messages waiting for an update. It was comforting, in an odd way. Maybe she couldn’t do anything in that moment to help Kaiden, but she could still feel like there was something she was good at. 

She wished that were true. It was difficult to focus on the target—like her eyes refused to work together anymore. And when she closed one, it only made everything seem off-center, like watching the world through a body that wasn’t her own, whose perspective she wasn’t acquainted with. She squeezed the trigger anyway, missing the target by a few inches, and set her pistol down with a scowl. Six months ago she could had popped that target with her eyes closed. This was a training yard for students for god’s sake. But she was not the person she was six months ago. She had to remember that. 

One more. Rely on instinct, on muscle memory, more than sight. Squeeze the trigger. Trust.   
It missed by less than she thought, being more than a little rusty. The wall next to the target chipped. She sighed and put away the gun. Hung her earmuffs on the wall. Until then she hadn’t even noticed Hannah in the doorway. How long had she been standing there?   
“How’d you find me?” Shepard asked without turning around. The last class that had been in here hadn’t put their equipment away correctly; gun A1 was in 2B’s slot. She took a moment to arrange them correctly, futile as the effort might be. If it was Jack’s class, and she was certain it was, there wasn’t enough money or charm in the world to convince her order mattered.   
“I know you,” she stated, simply, moving beside her to help put things back in place. She frowned. Definitely checking the cameras later and sending a stern email to whoever was in here last. The prospect of taking of her mothers’ job wasn’t exactly appealing in that moment. 

“You seem troubled,” Hannah finally said, placing the last pistol back where it belonged and locking the case. 

“That’s an understatement.” 

“I see. A bit too reliant on problems that can be solved with guns?” Hannah smiled. “My office. I have some grants to apply for — we’ll talk there.” 

“It’s Saturday. You shouldn’t be here.” She heard the metallic click of the door locking behind them, but tried the handle anyway to make sure. No one was gonna mess up her gun cabinet now. 

“Neither should you.” 

“I mean you shouldn’t be working,” she clarified. 

“No rest for the wicked,” she shrugged, waving her key card in front of the main hall lock. It all bent to her will, every door opening as they passed. It was rather satisfying to watch. Like the whole school had a life, one that bent to Hannah’s will. It reminded her of the Normandy. 

“So what’s our dilemma?” 

“I just…I’m lost on where I should go from here. It’s been a long time since I haven’t been following someone else’s orders. Since I’ve had much of a choice in anything.” 

“You’re torturing yourself. You have time, for once. Remember that. And it’s something I’d think you’d want to discuss with Kaiden when he returns anyways.” 

“I know. It’s the waiting that kills me.” 

“It always is.” Hannah glanced down at her computer once more, clicked a few times, blew the bangs off her face before rising once again to her full height. “Maybe it would make you feel better if we took a few baby steps, get you back in the motion of things.” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“I have a small gala tonight—potential donators to the school, mostly ex-Alliance or higher ups. Could be a good…soft entrance. Back into the public eye.” 

“Yeah. And I’m sure I’m not going to help them throw a few more credits in your way at all,” Shepard replied snidely, rolling her eyes. “Word will get out. I don’t want the press bothering Kaiden’s family, at least not without warning. It affects them too.” 

“But they aren’t staying in their Vancouver property, are they?” Hannah responded. “Kaiden’s mother is staying with her in-laws, out in the country. They shouldn’t be bothered.” She paused. When her daughter didn’t respond, she added “I’ll be with you the whole time. Better now while you have a choice in the matter, rather than an ambush later.” 

“Okay,” she agreed, finally, closing her eyes like she was choosing her method of execution instead of being invited to a party. “You’re right. I…I don’t have dress uniform anymore.” 

“So?” Her mother smiled, shook her head at the idea of such a frivolous problem. “We’ll find you something nice.” 

“Mom—“ 

“I missed so many moments with you,” Hannah interrupted. “I should get to take my daughter shopping, at least once in your life.” 

****

__

_It was the sound of her voice that drew him in._

_He was taking cover with god-knows not nearly enough survivors when he thought he heard the fighting stop. He couldn’t be sure. One of the colonists was sobbing loudly, a girl, no more than eleven. Her name was Lacy and she was probably the only colonist who didn’t hold a grudge against him; in fact, they’d stuck an odd kind of friendship these past few months. She’d high-five him if she saw him in the halls where her father worked, tell him all about what she was learning in school and ask him all kinds of questions before her father noticed and pulled her away from the outsider. Dinosaurs. She told him about dinosaurs last time he’d seen her. That had been just three days ago._

_She had a nasty cut on her head and was wailing for her father, who almost certainly hadn’t made it out in time since he wasn’t taking shelter with them. But when he’d tried offer his help, her mother pulled her close with a glare. Too much mistrust for biotics. For the Alliance. For him._

_It was dangerous to move, silence or no, he was the only protection these people had now. But they couldn’t stay here; too many injured, too many who would become irrational and endanger them the longer they went not knowing if the rest of the colony had made it out alive. He handed his pistol to one of the colonists; a farmer, one who spent enough evenings shooting scavengers to know how to take the safety off, and peered out from the doorway.  
That’s when he heard her voice; warm, sultry, just little raspy, the way it got when the day had gone on too long. Two years later and it still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.   
He’d been expecting this. Well, not really. Who can really expect to see the love of their life, returned from the dead? But Anderson had sat him down, shown him the security vids of a woman with auburn hair, so much shorter than hers had been, masquerading in what had to be a replica of her armor. It couldn’t be her, he kept telling himself. _

I heard her die. 

Can anyone else verify that? 

No. 

Maybe you’re mistaken. _His voice was cold, callus. Why? Because he didn’t want to let himself believe there was hope? Or because her survival meant he, and everyone else she’d loved, had let her down, abandoned her? Perhaps causing her to deviate?_

I know what I—

You have to consider—

Jane would never work for them! You know that! _It barely occurred to him that he had called her Jane and not Commander or Shepard. Anderson had raised his eyebrows but said nothing._ Cerberus killed her squad, her friends. Almost killed her. She would never—   
_He’d hardly heard Anderson’s arguments at that point, he left fuming and shaking for hours. Even if it was an imposter, a clone, he’d know. It wasn’t the woman he loved, it was like that image of her in the recruitment posters, the vids they started showing kids in gym class. She wouldn’t sound right, wouldn’t feel right; her voice would be too high, cheerier than she’d ever had much reason to use. There wouldn’t be enough freckles, enough scars, and he’d know. Like how birds can smell the taint of human hands on the skin of their young. He’d loved her. He would know._

_All that certainty went up in flames the second he saw her._

_She was different. Her hair was short, awkwardly so, as if growing out from being shaved down to almost nothing. The dimple on her cheek was gone, as was the scar through her eyebrow; replaced, now, with a dozen new ones that cracked across her skin like the face of an old porcelain doll. She was paler than he remembered, and she looked tired, sick almost. This wasn’t his Shepard; it couldn’t be. Too uncanny. Too many inconsistencies._

_So why did her eyes light up when she looked at him?_

_Without even thinking he embraced her when she ran to his arms, running his armored fingers through her short but still soft curls. She still did that thing where curled her fingers around his shoulder blades as if afraid of letting go, still was so short she had to stand on her toes to wrap her arms around him. But she was solid, strong, the way he remembered her._

_This was supposed to be easier. It wasn’t supposed to feel like her. Doubt gnawed at his stomach. It would have been too easy to kiss her, to celebrate her return and try not to think about it too much lest it unravel. He’d imaged a thousand scenarios, a thousand miracles that would bring her home to him. Ones where she was whole again; where her lips tasted the same, where her hair was splayed out on her pillow, her nose scrunched up as she smiled and laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck to close what little space between them remained._

_She still looked at him the same way._

_The same way she had smiled with just her eyes and the corner of her mouth when discovering they both had night shift together. The way would roll her eyes across the cockpit at Joker’s comments, saying more with her expression that words ever could. The way she softened when she looked at him, all those long nights in the mess or in her cabin if he could sneak away for a moment; talking about family and friends and all the places they’d been and hoped to go. It was a look that had always made him feel not only known but understood, warm. And he had allowed those eyes to walk out of his life._

_But what were his options then?_

_Number one: She’d survived, somehow. Had been rescued by someone other than the Alliance, despite Kaiden’s efforts to return to the wreck and search knowing he would be bringing home a corpse at best. And then after that? She’d abandoned him, for whatever reason, hopefully a good one but he couldn’t imagine what. She was too clever to let anything stop her from contacting him. And only now, not even by her own choice but by fate’s, she had returned to him._

_He’d watched her die. Had he really tortured himself over those shuttered gasps all these years, believing they were her last? Had she really let him continue to believe the lie, knowing that sound still echoed inside his head?_

_No, he wouldn’t consider it. Wouldn’t consider her betrayal. He had loved her, had given her every piece of him, and he thought he had known her heart as well. What they had was real, it had to be. Or else the alternative was too painful to consider._

_Number two: she was a clone. Or an imposter. Something brainwashed to be a ghost of the woman whose love made him feel like everything he’d gone through had been worth it. They’d seen crazier things out there; it was possible, and he wouldn’t put it past Cerberus to do such a thing. She was exactly what they wanted, on the surface at least: a sterling representation of humanity’s power. If they could strip away her blind compassion, her fierce protectiveness of others without even a second thought spent on the color of their blood, she’d be their perfect poster child._

_This was not his Shepard, not anymore. As much as he wanted to cling on to whatever pieces of her he had left; in music notes, in archived messages, in memories. This was as much a lie as her empty coffin had been._

_So why did it hurt so much to watch her eyes, that were not her eyes, could not be her eyes, leave his life again? Why did the pain in her expression as she glanced behind one last time feel so authentic? Why did her fading warmth feel like a mortal wound, like he was losing her all over again? Was it really so selfish, so wrong, to wish he could have held this bastardized version of her for just one minute longer? To pretend the past few years had been a nightmare, to run his fingers through her hair like it wasn’t shorter than he remembered, to ignore the fact that she no longer smelled of Alliance ration soap? Just a minute longer. Just a minute where he didn’t feel so lost, didn’t feel like there was a weight on his chest the second he found a moments peace._

_He hated the things he had said to her. He wished he hadn’t meant them. But there was no good option to believe in. He had chosen the safest one, not the least painful one.  
It haunted him, still, sometimes, that he had ever made Shepard feel like he didn’t have her back. No matter how many times his father told him that he’d made the best choice with the knowledge he had at the time, he had found no peace since that day. He’d fought so hard to accept her loss, to move on, to live. But all of that had come toppling down the second Anderson slid those files to him across the desk. _

_He sent the messages. Hoped it was enough, knowing it wasn’t. Every fiber of his heart was screaming that if there was even a sliver of a chance that it was her, he should be there. If nothing else, to hear her out. She would have done the same for him, right?_

_But what if he could never stop making excuses? Never tear himself away, even as his morals were torn limb from limb, trapped by even a shadow of a doubt that she was still in there somewhere? This wasn’t as simple like stealing the Normandy all this years ago; at least then they’d been doing what they had to, breaking a few rules while still acting with integrity. He couldn’t just blindly follow her into a terrorist organization, no matter what she said. The Shepard he knew would rather die than have her name in their mouth. Further proof that she really was gone._

_It was a calculated risk. He was supposed to be good at those; but he never could make the numbers run in their favor._

__

***

It was cooler when they returned to the school — that in-between time of day when you could see the moon in the daylight if you squinted hard enough. To her surprise, there weren’t many personal vehicles parked out front or guests roaming the grounds as she expected. Although if Hannah was the host, she supposed they would have to be there early.   
It had been a long time since Shepard had any reason to care much for her appearance. There had never really been much time, or reason, really. Since she was 16 her only clothes had been uniforms, or given to her, never something she’d chosen. In the small store her mother had taken her to on the waterfront, the woman at the counter had asked her all kinds of questions she didn’t know the answer to. What dress size are you? What cut do you like? What lengths add you comfortable for? What’s the dress code? 

She didn’t like feeling out of her element, even if it was something as silly as buying a dress. But her mother had offered a guiding hand, so much more knowledgeable than what met the eye. She ended up talking her out of only considering black and dark blues; the only colors that really provided any familiarity to her. 

The clerk smiled, a bit too cheerfully, at her lost expression. “What’s your favorite color? We can start there,” she suggested, trying and failing to be helpful. 

Shepard could have laughed. Favorite color? Did she look like a child? There was no reason for her to give the idea much thought; it wasn’t like her opinion really mattered. Her life would be all blacks and blues, a stripe of red as a warning or a relief, depending on who you were asking.   
But that was who she was. Red was a constant; her hair, the gang that had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go, the blood she spilt, whether it was for right or wrong reasons. Even the stripes that ran down her armor were hers; a trophy of what she could do, her tenacity, her will to survive and thrive. It was comforting, almost. The one thing that was hers. Not the Alliance or Cerberus, a gift with strings attached. Her. 

“Red…I think?” 

She was definitely overthinking it. The clerk looked at her for a moment like she was crazy; either because of her doubt, or because of how horribly it would clash with her hair. Her eyebrows knitted together in thought. “Yes, I can see it. You’re very _autumnal_.”

Whatever that meant. Her mother had fussed the whole way back to the school; fixing her hair, adjusting her dress. She’d settled on a deep, dark, red gown that dipped low down her back. She could see the scars in the mirror; everywhere she had been burned and crushed and taken punishment over the years. 

Her mother took her by the arm as they walked though campus together, stealing glances from the corner of her eye occasionally and smiling. Still, no sign of any other guests; no caterers, no fellow organizers. Even the main hall appeared to be dark inside. Her mother did always nag her about being on time — and her version of being on time was being unreasonably early.   
Hannah paused at the first step. Squeezed her daughters’ arm to get her to stop, turning her so they faced each other. She smiled again. Tucked a loose strand of hair behind Shepard’s ear. Her eyes were soft, almost teary. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Shepard asked, confused by her mother’s expression. It was almost as off to see her mother out of uniform as it was to see her own reflection. Hannah had worn green. It brought out the flecks of color in her eyes, and she mentioned it was her favorite. How had that somehow slipped Shepard’s radar? How had she gone so long without knowing that? 

“What? I’m not allowed to look at my daughter?” 

“Not like that,” she responded. “What’s with you? Tracking me down this morning, making a whole fuss. It’s not like you.” 

Hannah smiled, brushed a curl out of her child’s face, and sighed, like she was trying to get something off her chest that had been weighting her down a long time. “You have a lot of choices ahead of you, you know? I just…worry.” 

“About?” 

“You making the same mistakes I did. That’s what being a parent is all about, right? Trying to make sure your kids do better than you.” She smiled, sadly, running her fingers down the chain around her neck where she’d always kept her wedding ring. “I was like you, once. Thought I could have it all; a wife, a career, a family. I didn’t prioritize like I should have. I look back, and I know what I did mattered…but I gave too much. I didn’t even realize how far Ann and I had grown apart until she died. And then there were no more chances to make it right. No more time to cash in on all the dates I’d rain checked, no more time to say I was sorry for missing her calls. I don’t want that to happen to you. Or Kaiden.” 

“It won’t.” Shepard paused, studied her mother’s face. “I’m not going back to the Alliance. At least, not in the same way. I’m learning now that my life is worth more than how I can throw it away.” she assured her. “Any particular reason you’re giving me this whole life-lesson speech now?” 

“I told you, I’ve been worried for a long time. Needed to get it off my chest.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling. Her lip twitched, and Jane crossed her arms, studying the expression. 

“This isn’t a fundraising effort. Is it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I haven’t seen a single soul; no caterers, no guests. And you wanted me out of uniform? I’d hardly be recognized like this.” She clicked her tongue. “What are you hiding?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“They’re all here, aren’t they?” She continued to ask. “My friends, my crew. Kaiden. It’s some kind of surprise reunion.” 

Hannah’s expression flickered to a frown. She scoffed. “You’re too clever for your own good, you know.” She glanced at her watch, confirming that it was 1430 on the dot. “At least act surprised. They worked so hard,” she commented, offering her daughter an arm as they ascended the sweeping stairs of the main hall. 

Shepard straightened herself as the doors creaked open into darkness. She paused in the darkened doorway. No hiding things now; she was no longer the Shepard her closest friends had known for so many years. She had been humbled, weakened, her shoulders left bars of the strength they had carried for decades. She would understand if they were shocked, concerned. Even her own reflection—

The lights flicked on, and for a moment, the room was illuminated as if flashed by a camera. She blinked. Forced her breath to steady, but was not even given a moment to study the room before everything erupted into sound and movement. Something solid and relatively small slammed into her, and her nose was filled with the smell of antiseptic. Something grabbed at her arm, bringing forth a warm and almost spicy smell; foreign to her a few years ago, but now so comfortingly familiar. Someone clapped her on the back, hard. 

“Shepard,” Tali’s voice. She heard the fabric of her suit shift against itself, and she hugged her tighter. When she finally managed to turn her head, she was met with a familiar blue face buried in her shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you’re all here,” Shepard breathed. 

“And we couldn’t believe you were alive.” Tali finally released her, and Shepard turned to see Garrus; tall and proud and scarred. She hugged it, as oddly bony and awkward her height made it, glancing around to see who else was in their midsts. Jack, looking surprisingly sophisticated in a slim black suit. Miranda, who was surprisingly not keeping her distance from her. Joker, still with his hat on, nodding approvingly, and James, smiling coolly nearby, waving without uncrossing his arms as if she couldn’t tell from here that his Adam’s apple was shifting uncomfortably in an effort to suppress his emotions. 

But then through all of it, through the faces that crowded her, calling out here name and exclaiming her survival a miracle, she saw him. Tall and dark, a soft grin on his face. Their eyes met and they gravitated toward each other, as if pulled by an imaginary string, the whole world melted away into background noise. She reached out and circled her arms around his neck, her form flowing so easily into his. It felt like belonging. It felt like eternity. Her heart pounded against her ribs in anticipation as he reached around her, a hand gently pressed against the small of her back. His hand reached to slightly cup her face, to trace the line of her jaw, finding the place where it fit like a puzzle piece when he lifted her chin to kiss her. He smelled like instant coffee and aftershave, and his fingers trailed her vertebrae as he pulled her further into him. 

“Kaiden,” she breathed. 

He grinned. “I take it you missed me?”


	42. Because I Have To

Her stomach lurched as they finally entered the atmosphere. Tightening her grip on the side of the bed, she closed her eyes and tried her best to stop her vision from spinning. They’d be back on Earth within the hour, and she was glad. Over twenty years living on ships, and she’d lost her sea legs within a few months. 

Crossing the room, she took a moment to survey her meager belongings. Her quarters as the human council member were smaller and less flashy than the Normandy’s had been, but more comforting in the same sense. More homey. She’d taken to packing even less than she did as a solider; she had no armor to pack anymore, and no reason to carry her entire world on her back. Most of her belongings were back in her home in Vancouver, where Kaiden was surely coming up with some way to welcome her home from her week-long journey. It was summer now. Maybe they’d have time for dinner on the docs before it got too dark. 

In the bathroom mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair, patting down any deviant strands and tucking it back into a bun at the base of her neck. She straightened the collar of her silky blouse. Press noticed such things, she’d been coached, and she only needed to learn what happened when she didn’t heed that advice once. Her first trip back from a council meeting had been rough, mostly due to her own overthinking and over/preparedness. She’d arrived on base tired and a bit disheveled, and for the next week think pieces about her mental instability and supposed alcoholism went rampant. A reporter even showed up to Kaiden’s classroom to ask if her alleged psychotic break would endanger humanities seat on the council. Good thing Jack was substituting that day, made for a great exemplar that had the kids buzzing for a week.  
Of course, the headlines weren’t all bad. Regardless of anyone’s opinion on her politics; calling her an alien-lover, a traitor to her own people, and dozens of other unoriginal accusations, not everything was all doom and gloom, even if it was annoying at times. 

Her first major summit had been a push for repetitions for the krogan, and she’d walked away with her head held high as her proposal had gone through to push forward Bakara as an official representative. Kaiden had gone with her that time; they’d gotten dinner at a sushi restaurant on the slowly-rebuilding citadel docs. While she might have been safe from prying eyes, she certainly wasn’t safe from jokes about making sure the floor was solid enough before they entered. They hadn’t even been seated yet when her omnitool kept buzzing, presumably with the updated galactic news. Her heart pounded inside her chest. Time so see what the people made of her first major decision as councilor. 

COUNCILOR SHEPARD SPOTTED ON CITADEL WITH WEDDING RING AND HANDSOME MYSTERY PARAMOUR.

“They’ve got to be joking,” she’d scoffed, barely looking up as they were walking, narrowly avoiding patrons and waiters alike. She didn’t even notice the flustered waitress standing a tad too long as she handed them a menu, perhaps hoping for a photo or autograph. “I work for months building a case for this motion. And this is what they’re focusing on?” 

“Hey, the criticism will come. Don’t worry,” Kaiden joked. His face scrunched up in confusion. “Wait. Do people not know who I am?” 

“They called you handsome,” Shepard offered. 

“There’s literally two human spectres. How do they not recognize me?” 

“Second place sucks, huh?” Shepard grinned.

“We’ve been serving together for years,” Kaiden rambled “I’m in the background of practically every photo of you.” 

“Maybe you got cropped out,” Shepard teased. “Come on, they’ll figure it out eventually. You of all people should know not all reporters do their research. You’re not gonna be known as just my trophy husband forever.” 

“Well, even if I was, still one of my greatest accomplishments,” he smiled, and he kissed her then, drawing her face from the screen. And her heart swelled then, end she loved him fiercely and without fear. 

It’d been four months since that night. Surrounded by her closest friends, the people that had become her family no matter how hard she fought to keep them from toppling the walls she built. All of it felt like a blur, faces melting together until she could barely remember it all. She didn’t think she wanted that. Didn’t think she could handle being under so many eyes again, even if it was people who loved her. But sometimes Kaiden just seemed to know what she wanted, even before she knew it herself. She never thought she’d live to get married, never thought she would be capable of loving someone and being loved so much in return. He told her she looked lovely in red and his eyes never strayed from hers as the chaplain read though their vows. His words still buzzed between her lips, sweet and musical and warm. Even in her darkest moments, even when the night gripped her by the neck and she felt as if there was no escape, his voice brought her back home. 

“I don’t think a lot of people would consider us lucky,” he’d told her, his voice low like a purr, barely more than a whisper, her ears tingled and strained with the effort to hear him. It was for her, not for anyone else. She was all that mattered. “Two messed up kids, one who lost everything, and one that didn’t have anything left to lose. But I look at you and I feel lucky. Because despite everything fate brought me back to you. Over and over again, despite the odds, I had something to fight for. And it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

And then later, as he held her close, as the music winded down, as guests said their tired goodbyes and they melted into each other, ready to go home, ready to crawl under the covers, ready to feel each other’s warmth and safety and let their weary bodies rest, he whispered over and over, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck: “You made it all worth it. You made everything worth it.” 

A familiar chime pulled her out of her daydream. They’d be docking in the next half an hour. She took one final once-over of her appearance before shoving her toiletries off the sink and into her bag, which she stuffed unceremoniously into her footlocker. At the foot of her bed, Valkyrie snored, a centimeter of tongue sticking out from between her teeth. She felt bad waking her. There was no peaceful way to do so — she slept like a stone, and would wake with a start and a whimper no matter how gently you tried to rouse her. Kaiden always said it made him so sad — it reminded him of her, a long time ago, when things were so dark it was impossible to see a way out. 

She’d been a wedding gift, from Kaiden. They hadn’t even gotten fifteen minutes past the informal ceremony before there was a distant sound of barking and whimpering. She’d turned to search for the sound before Kaiden had grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close again.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked. He was smiling when he said it. 

“If you’re about to tell me you brought a dog here, I’ll promise anything you want.” 

“I lied. I wasn’t in London.” 

“I figured as much.” She’d rolled her eyes. “You’re not exactly a smooth liar. At least, not with me.” 

He grinned. “One of my students told me he was helping look for survivors in Detroit. When he mentioned his favorite Search and Rescue dogs was retiring after an injury—“

“Kaiden you didn’t.” He hands were balled around his suit jacket. “You did not get a dog.” 

“No. I got us a dog.” He grinned, taking her by the hand. “Come on, I think we can slip away a moment.” 

She was waiting patiently just beyond the kitchen door. 75 pounds of muscle and dark grey fur, her expression was almost human as she tilted her head in an attempt to understand why the human in front of her had buried her face in her hands in delight. Her she had a square, wide face framed by warm, brown eyebrows, and her body was firm, with three strong but short legs. The fourth, her front right leg, was bandaged and ended halfway down, obviously amputated relatively recently judging by her awkwardness, but she didn’t seem to care. The short, wiry fur on the top of her head was interrupted by scars, burns if she had to guess by the puckered pink skin, a particularly nasty one running through her eye and taking a chunk of out one ear. If the dog had any indication of her misfortune, she didn’t show it. She let out a low, quick, bark and wagged her tail so hard she wobbled on her remaining legs, and Shepard fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around her. She was still young, spry, and she peppered her owners face with wet and overly-enthusiastic kisses, smudging her makeup and causing her mother to fuss over her appearance the rest of the night. 

But she loved the little creature who, had been named Valkyrie by her previous handler. She’d been trained well, obviously, for her previous job. She was always right by Shepard’s side, nudging her hand with her soft muzzle for attention. She slept by her feet at night and woke her with kisses, and followed her everywhere she went. And she loved people, which worked out beautifully for them. Whenever an admirer began to pester her with questions, Valkyrie would whine and pester them for attention, and all would be forgotten since no one could resist her big brown eyes. Soon enough Valkyrie attracted more admirers than her owners did, something neither of them minded. 

She lifted her head when Shepard came to collect her belongings, and Shepard patted her head, causing her to whip her tail back and forth. She rose to her feet and waited patiently by the door as Shepard laced up her boots, and together they made for the cockpit. 

The Captain Jameson was waiting for her by the elevator doors. He was a bit younger than her; dark, swift, with a honey-sweet voice. He reminded her a lot of Kaiden; there was a similarity in the shape of their eyes, and he had a such a similarly calm demeanor. Perhaps that was why he had been chosen as her escort to more than a few diplomatic meetings, that and how tight he ran a ship, always making sure the crew didn’t pester her with questions if she asked to be left alone. If he was as star-struck as his crew, he didn’t act like it, and it was much appreciated. He saluted and greeted her a smile. 

“Captain,” he acknowledged him “I told you, you don’t have to salute every time you see me.” 

“Just showing my respect, Commander.” He grabbed her bag from the elevator floor before she could, and she shook her head at the gesture. 

“Not with the Alliance anymore, remember? Not your commander. Shepard is fine. Trust me, we’re there.” 

“You may be. I’m not, ma’am,” he answered. “You’ll always be Commander Shepard to all of us, no matter your choice of career path.” 

“Do I detect a hint of distain there, Jameson?” 

“For politics, not for you, ma’am. Still, you have no idea what it means to have one of our own watching our backs from up there.” 

“You’re just saying that because I know how to keep my luggage to one footlocker.” 

”Maybe,” he grinned. As they exited out to the docs, Shepard gestured for take her belongings from him, but he only shook his head. 

“I’ve got it. We still need to find your escort.” 

“Just testing you.” She rolled her eyes. Hannah had insisted she have security detail everywhere she went since she’d been made councilor, making it difficult to get even a moments peace at times. While Hannah only sent the best, that didn’t mean they weren’t jittery and nervous around her. But it clearly meant a lot to her mother, she had good reason to worry. Fun to test the ropes, though. 

“Ma’am,” Jameson saluted once more, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s been an honor. I hope to see you next month for your meeting.” 

“See you, Jameson.” She started to turn her attention to her escort, but before she could move an arm snaked around her back. She was startled, for a moment, ready to clock whoever was behind her, but Valkyrie wasn’t growling. Which could only mean—

“Kaiden!” She smiled and threw herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. She smiled and kissed him. He smelled of aftershave, and his skin was smooth and soft. He held her tight, rocking back and forth for a moment, and her heart was filled with joy. Sure, it had only been a few days, but that didn’t mean things hadn’t been lonely, even if they did still talk every day. 

“What are you doing here? Who’s covering your class?” 

“Jack,” Kaiden sighed. “Don’t worry. I counted them all before I left.” 

“You really think that’s a good idea?” 

“A bunch of them flunked their last exam because some new video game just came out last week.” He shook his head. “Trust me. They could use a little tough love right now.”  
He released his grip, her boots back on solid ground, but she hadn’t let go yet. Resting her head on his chest, she only held on harder. Closed her eyes. Inhaled his scent, felt his heart pump against her cheek. “God, I missed you.” 

He chuckled, hugged her again. “I missed you too,” he told her, a twinge of confusion in his voice as they finally parted. “You doing okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Last time I called you weren’t feeling well. Isn’t that why you can home early?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Kaiden. Just that inner ear thing the doctor mentioned. Give me a few hour on dry land and I’ll be good as new.” 

He pursed his lips, thinking, as if deciding whether to believe her or not. “Everything go okay up there otherwise?” 

“Oh, yeah. Same old, same old,” she responded, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. It was their little game; who picked her bag up first. They were too proud to argue or wrestle it out of each other’s hands. This time Kaiden had lost. “Like banging my head against a brick wall and hoping for a doorway to appear. Just…been a while since I’ve seen a friendly face.” 

Speaking of friendly faces—the usual rabble of reporters was outside the station. Not all of them were for her—they’d thinned out over the months, but they’d make time to harass her while waiting for more relevant targets. Kaiden sighed. “On your six—here come the seagulls.”  
Shepard managed a chuckle deep in her throat. The comment conjured an immediate image of the birds that flocked them the last time they’d shared fries on the waterfront—more than a dozen of them had pursued them the whole day, like the world’s most annoying assassins. Their human counterparts were less funny. Shepard thought reporters were bothersome before—here they were downright dangerous. The first time she’d returned from her induction into the council, they’d surrounded her, cameras flashing, words jumbling over each other, too loud, too close, no way out. The flash of a camera, or the apex of a flash-bang? The click of a camera, or distant assault rifle fire? 

Fight, flight, or freeze? Fight was no option—she was still so tired then, wounds too fresh, and unarmed. And flight was impossible—too many bodies, too many faces, too many voices surrounding her. She was told she handled herself well, despite not remembering any of it. The photos that surfaced showed that her eyes were glassy, her face fixed in a stone-cold expression that almost scared her with how little she recognized herself. She didn’t remember walking to the car, that she had apparently bit the inside of her cheek until it bled copper in her mouth. 

When she opened her eyes, she was in the back of a car, freezing cold yet damp with sweat, clutching onto Kaiden so hard her nails had left marks. It’d taken her hours to come down from that again, and her shutdown was the subject of more news headlines than Kaiden had obviously kept hidden from her. Rumors speculated that she was drunk, that she was in red sand, that she was in no mental state to represent humanity. She was better now, most days. Crowds didn’t bother her…at least, not as much. Still, the reason for the escort wasn’t a matter for debate after that. It was as much to keep her safe as it was to keep everyone else.  
At least Kaiden made an excellent wall, and Valkyrie was a diligent guard dog, heeling close to her masters without distraction. Their questions still peppered like bullets. _Councilor Shepard, is it true to received premium care in the hospital while thousands of others died under subpar conditions? Several students have gone missing from your mother’s prototype biotics program, do you care to comment? Councilor Shepard—_

The car door slammed behind her like the slam of a coffin, and the faces dispersed behind the tinted window. The AI didn’t even wait for them to buckle their seatbelts before it took off, leaving the docs as a peck in the rear-view. 

Valkyrie whined and rested her head in Shepard’s lap, looking up at her with liquid eyes. She scratched her ears, prompting her to slap Kaiden on the leg with her wagging tale. He frowned. “They’re still that bad?”

“Must have been a slow day,” she answered, non-committal. The answer was yes, sometimes worse. But worrying him wouldn’t fix things. 

“Geez, that was a lot. Doing okay?” 

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” 

“They really care about those things so much? I feel like you’ve answered those questions a million times.” 

“They’ll keep asking until they get the reaction they want,” she shrugged. “Guess I’m too boring now.” 

“You? Never.” He grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to plant a kiss on the top of her head. Instantly she felt herself melt. It was weird, not having to sneak around anymore. Good weird. But weird. 

“What about you? How’s the school?” 

“Makes me wish something like this existed when we were kids, so it’s going great.” As positive his words were, his voice didn’t match, like he was trying to be optimistic and failing. “Two more students didn’t come back this weekend.” 

“Again? Any word on what happened?” 

“None. Contacted their parents too—nothing yet. It’d be easier if their families weren’t in refugee camps half-way across the galaxy.” 

“That’s four in the last month. Any leads?” 

“Besides being some of the strongest students we have to offer? None.” Kaiden shook his head. “It’s hitting the kids hard. Luckily we have the money to get some spare school therapists for support, but I’m starting to worry some of them are gonna do something stupid.” 

“What about you? Can’t be easy watching them go through that.” 

“I take it a day at a time. Didn’t know any of the kids personally, but they’re still ours.” He rubbed at the back of his head uncomfortably, the way he always did when he was trying to find the words. “Last one was one of Jack’s kids. She’s taking it pretty hard.” 

“Shit. And if I know Jack—“

“Never seen her so pissed. If someone hurt them—“ Kaiden sighed, shook his head. “I just keep hoping they got homesick or something, went home for a few weeks, but some of them—“ 

“—Don’t have anything to go back to anymore,” Shepard sighed. “Yeah. I get it.” 

Kaiden paused, as if considering his words. “She’d probably like to see you, you know. You’ve always had a way with helping her get her head on straight. If you’re up to it, that is.” 

Shepard sighed. Truth to be told, she wasn’t. She was fatigued, and her mind was buzzing with a million thoughts. More than anything, she just wanted to be home, to curl up on the balcony and watch the sun fall with Valkyrie curled up at her feet. Maybe take her to the park, if the heavy feeling ever left her limbs. But she owed Jack too much, and there was no rest to be had knowing she was in pain. 

“Think we’ll be there long?” 

“Only as long as long as you want to be.” 

Valkyrie picked her head off her lap, big brown eyes staring, as if she too wanted an answer. “Sure. No problem.” 

***

She’s still got it, he thought, watching Shepard stride through the front doors, head held high; the gait and discipline of a trained solider. Most students wouldn’t be caught dead in a classroom building on a Friday evening, but she drew every remaining eye. As she passed, eyes lit up, and she smiled; the only tell that things have changed in the months since she’d traded Alliance blues and bullet holes for cutting words and paperwork. But it was still her, every ounce, every molecule. Nothing could extinguish the fire in her eyes. 

The first time she had visited him at work, he’d been nervous. He’d only been with these kids for about a month, and still feeling them out. Shepard was doing better, but still a long way to feeling like herself again. Done a few small, pre-recorded interviews, but nothing like this; with crowds and noise and unexpected questions. He’d drilled his students for months, making sure their questions weren’t too close to home, that they kept their voices low, that they didn’t crowd her. She would have been pissed if he knew he’d done that, like he was treating her like some fragile thing. It wasn’t underestimation. It was caution. 

His whole plan was thrown out the window in minutes. Something changed in her when she was with those kids, something came alive again. Within the hour they were crowded around her like children listening to a ghost story at a campfire, eyes large, interjecting questions here and there. 

And then sometimes Shepard would pull at his sleeve and say softly, coyly, “I don’t know, why don’t you ask Major Alenko? He was there after all.” 

And their eyes would grow large and suddenly they’d be reaching for him, begging for answers and details, hungry for more, and Shepard would have slipped away to grin with satisfaction at him from across the room. 

One of his younger students, a girl of around 12, ran to catch up with them, dragging another classmate behind her by the wrist. Their peals of laughter bounced through the halls. “Major Alenko! Major Alenko! Wait for us!” 

Kaiden grinned, glancing at his wife to make sure she was okay to wait, but she had already turned to face the girls. Moira, the smaller one, still had peeling red-and-black tape down the side of her omnitool. She’d asked Shepard to sign it the first time she’d visited. 

“What are you two still doing here? Moira, you said your mom was picking you up this weekend. For your birthday, right?” 

Moira grinned in satisfaction, glancing to her classmate. “My moms on her way now, just running late.” She turned her attention to Shepard, mouth still slightly open in awe. “C-commander,” one of them spurted out, stumbling over their words. Shepard turned to look at the child over her shoulder, shaking her head slightly, perhaps remembering what it was like to scramble to remember titles and names like your life depended on it. Her eyes flicked to Shepard’s heels. “Valkyrie’s not with you?” 

Shepard laughed. Outshined by a dog, yet again. Not that it bothered her, she often said. She was a cute dog. “Just missed her,” she told her “dropped her off at home. I’ll make sure to bring her next time.” 

Moira smiled, still, eyes large as she looked up at her hero. All the kids admired her, even the older ones. Red hair dye sales were skyrocketing, and notebooks were adorned with red marker stripes more often than not. She was a living legend, one they all owed something to, and one that was only one degree of separation from them. “You should have seen how fast Major Alenko ran out of the room when he found out you were coming home early.” 

“Moira—“ her classmate slapped her arm, and they both giggled. 

“He talks about you all the time.” 

“Oh? And what does he say about me?” Shepard teased, glancing toward Kaiden as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“How much better liikess you,” Moira told her cheerfully, her voice over-emphasizing the word like in a way that made Moira giggle. “Sometimes we ask him questions about you so he’ll forget to collect our homework.” 

“You sure you should be saying this in front of him?” Shepard grinned. 

“That’s the worst part—he knows we do it, and it still works,” Moira continued. “But sometimes he shows us old vids too. All the cool stuff you know how to do. Will you come back one day and show us how to Reave?” 

Kaiden could tell Shepard barely contained a laugh. She beat her chest. Tried to play it off as a cough. Raised her eyebrows. “And who taught you about that technique?” 

“No one,” the other student answered. “We found an old vid of you. It’s not like it’s a secret,” they rolled their eyes, like it was obvious. 

“You know there’s only two humans who can reave, right?” 

“Yeah. And they’re both here. So why not?” The first student pressed. “Major Alenko already said no.”

“And did he tell you why?” She glanced at him. Their heads became a wave of nods. 

“He said we could hurt ourselves.” 

“Yeah. You’ll fry your nervous system. Pretty sweet deal if you were hoping to end up back in pampers,” she spoke, carelessly, obviously forgetting for a moment she was talking to children and not soldiers. Her face went red and dropped almost immediately, realizing where she was. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Nothing—forget about it— “she sputtered, shooting daggers at Kaiden’s stifled laughter.  
It was lucky that the calm of the halls was pierced by a familiar voice — yelling. Shepard wrapped her hand around Kaiden’s arm and pulled him behind her like they were running for their lives. 

“See you Monday girls — practice your barriers!” Kaiden called after them, still clearly enjoying Shepard’s embarrassment. Her face was still bright red. 

“You could have rescued me at any time, you know,” she spit at him, the yelling growing louder. 

“Why? Watching you get all muddled like that — adorable.”

Shepard shot him a poisonous look. “You’re lucky you’re you.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to think you’re cute?” He grinned. 

“I kill reapers for a living. I’m not cute.” 

“Hard disagree, ma’am,” he grabbed her elbow for a moment, stopping her in a secluded corner. He glanced around. They were alone. 

She seemed to come to that realization too. She grinned. He wrapped his arms around the small of her back, pulled her close to him, so that their noses were touching. “I’ve always known you were cute. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, you know.” 

“Liar,” she scoffed. 

“Cross my heart,” he told her, taking her face into the palm of his hand. She closed her eyes, leaned into his touch as she ran his thumb back and forth along her high, proud cheekbones. He’d always loved the sharpness of her features; the acute angle of the inner corners of her eyes, the peaks of her upper lip. And her eyes: dark as obsidian. “You have no idea how long I waited to tell you how I felt.”

“Oh, I think I have some idea,” she grinned, opening her eyes. “You aren’t exactly subtle, you know.” 

“Oh no, before that,” he grinned. “Way before I even had a chance to make a fool out of myself in front of you.” 

He felt the warm exhale of her smile. The world melted around them, condensed to only the space between them. His skin was hungry for hers—more than he’d let himself think about. She hasn’t been due back for three more days. Three more days of forcing down how much he craved her warmth—or so he thought. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, until their lips met, until finally he did not exist as only himself, but as part of her, each a half of each other. He almost trembled at her touch; like an addict moment away from the next high. Maybe it was an old habit, too little time for moments like these aboard the Normandy, too many eyes, having to make due with whatever precious moments they had. They had all the time in the world now, but the thrill of his arms around her waist never diminished. 

“Fine! Write me up, see if I care! That’s all you motherfuckers do, right? Write shit down and never do shit about it!” 

Jack’s voice startled her into retreat, and Shepard pulled away, their moment shattering. She sighed. Ran a hand down his shoulder. Her eyes and the lift in the corner of her mouth sent a message: later. They pressed on toward the noise.

Inside her classroom, Jack was fuming, her face red as she yelled into her earpiece. She hardly even seemed to register Shepard was there. 

“No, you listen! One of my fucking kids is missing. So, either you do your fucking job, or I come over there and do it myself. And you really aren’t going to like the way I handle things, trust me.” There was a pause, presumably as Jack pretended to listen for a response. She was practically shaking with rage. “I don’t give two flying fucks if you report that as a threat. It was. Fine. Put whatever you want. Just find my fucking kids.” Jack touched the side of her earpiece with a scowl, her eyes fire. “And what the fuck have you been doing? Ramirez is missing. Alenko tell you that?” She paced passed Shepard, and it was clear she didn’t even particularly care who she was speaking to. Anyone in her line of sight would have gotten the same response. “Fuck all, that’s what you’ve been doing, just like everyone else.” 

“Jack,” Shepard interrupted, trying to sound low and calm. “I’m sure the Alliance is doing everything they can. In the meantime, Hannah promised if there were no leads, she’d assign—“

“A special fucking task force. Fuck all that’s going to do, they could be a million miles away already, doing god knows what to them. I can’t let them do to them what they did to me.” 

“Them? You have an idea of who did it?” Her eyes gleamed. There she was again, Commander Shepard, and her indomitable focus. The woman you called when you needed shit done.

Jack’s eyes were sharp and her head shot in her direction, as if she’d just been insulted. “I would if I wasn’t under direct orders to stay here and do nothing.” 

“You’re not doing nothing. Your kids need you, now more than ever,” Kaiden piped up. Jack shot him a venomous look. 

“Ramirez needs me,” she spat back. Suddenly, as if overcome by something, she crossed the room and grabbed Shepard by the shoulders. Looked at her seriously. “You and me. We can fix this, few days tops. Let’s go.” 

Shepard’s eyes widened in surprise, her face flickering for a moment. “What?” 

“You heard me. We fix this. Now.” 

“Jack,” Kaiden chimed in, taking a step toward Shepard, as if to put himself between them. “You can’t. You have direct orders—”

“Oh, you’re both ones to talk,” Jack interrupted.

Kaiden’s eyes narrowed, and he continued. “—And you know she can’t.” 

“Can’t? Or won’t? Besides, I don’t remember asking you,” she snapped. 

“Shepard was never cleared for active duty. Probably won’t ever be. It’s not fair of you to ask her that.” 

“Didn’t stop you from going to Tuchanka. Besides, didn’t fucking ask you. Did I?” She peered behind Kaiden, eyes like daggers. She looked like she was seconds from killing or crying — and he was certain even she didn’t know which. “What’s on your fucking calendar that’s more important? Wiping some dignitary’s asses for them? I thought you of all people would—“ 

“I’ll go,” Shepard interrupted. Kaiden turned, hoping for even a shred of a chance she could be convinced otherwise. He knew that look on her face too well though. The way her brow wrinkled together; eyes narrowed. He knew well enough that there was no convincing her when she looked that way. Not that he wouldn’t try. “I have to.” She was looking at Jack still, two predators locking eyes, battling for dominance, but he knew the words were his. 

“You‘re sure?” 

“It’ll only be a few days.” Whether that was a promise to him or Jack, he wasn’t certain. “I have to.”


	43. Who We Are

His alarm never woke her — she was always awake well before he was. Not that he would ever know. She didn’t dare stir before him, didn’t dare break the connection they made in sleep. Whether it was a single finger, stretched out to draw lines across her back, or their legs tangled together, or her head buried in his chest, they were never apart. Maybe it was to make up for lost time, lost connection, which is why she could never bring herself to be the one to break it. For a few minutes, she would just breathe, sunning herself in his warmth, wondering how they ever got this far. 

But all things come to an end. Kaiden stirred as soon as his alarm went off, silencing it quickly as not to wake her, never knowing she was already awake. In her feigned sleep, he would usually lean closer before he left. Plant a soft kiss on the side of her head, brush her shoulder blade with the back of his hand. That day, he went to run a hand down the curve of her arm, and she caught it, held it there. She smiled without opening her eyes, catching the brief inhale of his startle. 

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled, rolling over to face him. He smiled, brushing away of loose stand of hair from her face. Propping herself up on one elbow, she turned to pull herself on to him, holding on as if her life depending on it. Maybe it had only been a few days, but it had been too long. She craved every inch of him, every degree of warmth under his skin. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his, and let out a sigh. 

“I could always go in late, you know,” he told her, hands caressing the back of her shoulders as if trying to memorize the muscles of her back. “It wouldn’t be a big deal.” 

She smirked. Buried her face in his neck. “Tempting,” she told him, “but I have to leave soon too.” 

She sat up, opening her eyes just in time to catch Kaiden’s frown. “You feel okay about this?” 

“About what?” 

“Leaving with Jack for a few days, this whole situation with the kids.” 

She shrugged, tugging at the place where she’d tied her hair back. The majority of the mess fell into her face, and she ran a hand through it, beginning the battle she waged daily ever since it had grown past her chin. “I guess? I mean, it’s just business as usual, right? Everyone else’s problems eventually become my problems.” She shrugged. “Why do you ask?” 

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “You were talking in your sleep last night. Thrashing around a little.” 

“Oh.” She did her best to seem busy working out the knots in her hair, separating it into thirds. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you up.” 

Kaiden shook his head. “It’s okay, just…wondering what’s eating at you.”

She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. Brown and uncomfortably warm now, she shifted under their growing weight. 

It was funny how they always seemed to swim in circles together, always coming back to the same point. That first night before Illos, she could feel the arrows of his gaze piercing through her bare shoulders. He’d said something then, but her mind was a million miles away. She’d never felt so simultaneously in control and out of control; what if she really was going nuts? Like everyone always expected of biotics, of people like her, who’d seen too much not to have a few bolts loose. They were mutineers for god’s sake, and here she was, fraternizing with a junior officer. It was as if she’d been replaced by someone she hardly recognized, someone who, oddly enough, seemed more like herself than she had ever been. 

_“Jane?”_

_Turning her head over her shoulder, he was closer to her now. She hasn’t heard him move; had almost forgotten he was there for a moment. His eyes were soft. He motioned as if to reach out to her, but decided against it. Bit his lip. It was hard not to smile, knowing, now, the answer to a question she’d wondered for longer than she’d ever admit; how warm and soft they were, and how they fit so well against her own. “Everything okay?”_

_It hit her, suddenly, that he had called her Jane. Not Shepard. Not Commander. She tried to shake the thought from her mind. Of course he’d called her Jane, they’d slept together for gods sake. It’d be weird if he’d called her by anything but her first name._

_No one ever called her Jane. She’d always hated her name; one final stain on her identity, one final permanent mark of who’d she’d been before; nobody worth caring about. But she liked the way he said it._

_“Yeah,” she exhaled. “Just…a lot on my mind.”_

_Concern spread across his face. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Did…did we…did I do something wrong?” He stumbled across the question, as if still forming it in his head. “I mean, do you regret this? Us?”_

_She hated where her mind went: to hearings, to repercussions, to her mother clicking her tongue judgmentally as she asked in a disgusted tone if they were truly ‘entangled’, asking what she was thinking. But none of those people were here now. She’d given the Alliance enough; she would not give them this too._

_“Regret you? No. Never,” she told him. He smiled, closing the space between them, finally reaching up to touch her face, to trace the angle of her jaw. She closed her eyes once again, goosebumps raising across her body. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her like that, had looked at her the way he did. Even she forgot sometimes that she was more than a tool, a commander, a solider. More than just someone to be used, and even sacrificed, if necessary. He knew her, more any anyone else did. More than she knew herself, at times. Sometimes the way people looked at her like she was a legend, a god, someone untouchable. She used to think she wanted that. To feel like the world was in her hands. But Kaiden changed that. Made her feel human again, lovable, but despite her mistakes. She didn’t have to infallible to be someone worth knowing. Worth loving. Not Commander Shepard. Jane. Just…Jane._

_“Commander, I need you on the bridge in ten,” Joker’s voice cracked across the intercom._  
“On my way,” she answered without thinking, her eyes snapping open. Kaiden frowned. Looked like he wanted to ask something, but there was no time now. Maybe no more time ever.  
Suited up on the bridge, Joker was running numbers while ground team was syncing their comms. Shepard leaned over his console, trying to make sense of the terrain, desperate for a safe place to land. 

_“Comms are synced,” Kaiden reported, both behind her and in her ear. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she stopped herself from turning to watch him._

_“Damn. When you decided to break the rules you really go all-out, huh Commander?” Joker commented under his breath, so that only she could hear._

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Never thought I’d see it happen. Honestly. Thought you’d just pine at each other across the mess forever.”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, but the bridge was too well-lit to hide how red her ears had gone._

_“Yeah, yeah. Just remember poor Liara’s on comms too,” he grinned. “So just keep it PG, okay?” he added, this time loud enough for the others to hear. Shepard pushed the brim of his hat down, frowning at him._

_“Did I miss something?” Liara asked, looking at Kaiden with the kind of wide-eyed innocence that now only existed in the Liara of their distant memories. It was a good thing his face was mostly hidden as he fumbled with his helmet. Only a strip of flesh was visible at his neck, and it was tinged red with embarrassment._

How far they’d come from those days, sometimes she couldn’t believe it. Those days had slipped through her fingers too quickly, every moment fleeting, never knowing which would be their last. She wasn’t even sure if she knew how to take things slow, to survive outside of chaos. But he made things feel so easy. 

“I’d just bore you to death,” she answered carefully, after a moment of deliberation. “Meetings I have to reschedule, grants to be approved.” It wasn’t a lie, necessarily, just not the whole truth. “I’ll tell you about it some other time if you really care to know.” 

She could still feel his eyes on her as she rose to dress herself, waiting to say something. Eventually, however, they both knew he was running out of time. She heard the creak of the bed as he left, the hiss of the door behind him, and the distant clank of dishes. Valkyrie was sniffing at her heels, tail wagging, following closely as Shepard entered the bathroom. 

It still didn’t feel like theirs — the apartment they rented not far from the Alliance base — but every day parts of her seeped into the corners of the room. Shampoo for curly hair in the shower, a hair tie on the sink, a laundry bin, recently emptied, in the corner. Her reddened eyes stared back at her as she splashed water in her face, trying to wake herself up. Sleep still evaded her most nights, planet-side or not. There was a laundry list of treatment for everything that still ailed her, she knew, more than she had the capacity to remember any more. A non-invasive procedure to help her trick knee. A type of physical therapy that would help the muscles in her chest heal correctly so she could have full range of motion again. Pills to help chase away the night where she swore someone was standing over the edge of her bed, waiting to put a bullet in her brain. Even some experimental treatments to help with the dizziness, the migraines, the blur in her vision that came and went as it pleased. But all of these things cost time, had risks, none of which she was willing to undergo. She could brush it off as simply being too busy, as being fine with the level her body had healed naturally, but the truth was nothing was worth being back in a hospital again, being back under a knife, her life pinned to a table by someone she didn’t know she could trust. Too many mornings felt that way anyway — how quickly and easily two years had passed right out from under her, waking up as someone two years older. Hair that she didn’t cut buzzed to the scalp. Scars she didn’t earn. Every day discovering something new — _(have I always had a scar by my chin? Did my hair always grow weird there? When did those wrinkles of my forehead get there?)_ — something she could never remember no matter how hard she tried. 

Some nights she still woke up thinking she was on that Cerberus base again, alarms blaring, torn from the grave to fight for her life again. More than that — that the past two years had been a dream — synapses firing in the moments before death, imaging a world on the cusp of inevitable destruction. She couldn’t do it again, shouldn’t have even been able to pull it off the first time. It was a miracle, even with how many people they’d lost— 

Valkyrie whined and pawed at her leg, head tilted, as if awaiting a command. The way she always did when the past coiled around her like a snake, when she wasn’t sure which version of herself would greet her in reflection. “Good girl,” she told her, patting the top of her wide head. Maybe she was being ungrateful. She may have lost two years, but Miranda had given the rest of them back — if not for her, she wouldn’t be waking up at all. 

Of the many things she missed about her old life, the uniform was one of them. Not that she dressed much differently most days, most people would still mistake her for Alliance from a hundred yards, but the choice was something she wasn’t used to. Maybe a stupid thing to hang up on, being indecisive between nearly identical pieces of clothing when she’d made choices that impacted the galaxy at large every other well, but no one ever said what she felt had to made sense. As a final gesture, she pulled the chain around her neck out from beneath her shirt from which her wedding hand dangled. She’d tried wearing it normally, but it felt too alien — she’d never been allowed jewelry before. Not since she was a teenager, sticking cheap metal in the holes she’d made in her ear with a safety pin. More times that she’d let Kaiden find out, she’d almost lost it in a random embassy bathroom, only to be saved by a stranger chasing her down the hall. It felt at home around her neck, anyway. Once her entire identity had rested there — a few ounces of metal that spelled out her name, reminded her of who she was and what the world needed her to be with its weight. But the world didn’t need her now —Kaiden did. And so around her neck it stayed. A new reminder. 

She stepped out to the kitchen, where Kaiden had already set our her coffee — always just the way she liked it. She’d never get used to the way the sun poured out the window so early in the morning. The way there was no hum of electricity above them, producing artificial daylight. He smiled as she sat across from him at the island, his eyes soft and crinkled. “You know my mother had a saying when I was growing up.” 

“Oh?” She sipped at her coffee. Kaiden was making eggs. Her stomach churned. She’d have to get something to eat later. Maybe once they landed in Montreal. 

“Those with white dogs should not wear all black.” 

She glanced down at her attire, and sure enough, her clothes were more heather-grey than black now, coated in fur. No lint roller in the world could tackle the mess. “I’m mourning for the rest of my life,” she responded, sipping at her coffee, hoping it would make her feel better. Nothing like a mild stimulant to calm the nerves. 

Kaiden scrunched up his nose. “I should know this, shouldn’t I? Now a good time to mention I never passed seventh grade English?” 

“Chekov,” Shepard answered, “Don’t worry, I couldn’t tell you the first thing about him either.”

“Ash?” Kaiden asked, and she nodded. “You thinking about her?” 

“A little. Yeah.” Kaiden slid her a plate of eggs and toast. She hoped he would notice them in the garbage later. “She could still be alive right now you know? Had a real eye for poetry, art, stuff like that. If she hadn’t joined the Alliance…”

“Then she could have easily been killed when the Reapers hit earth,” Kaiden stopped her. “At least she got to choose how she went out. Most of us aren’t that lucky.” 

“She didn’t choose to die. I—” what was she supposed to say? I made that choice for her? It was true, but then this would turn into Kaiden trying to comfort her, and she didn’t want that. Didn’t deserve that. “I just hope it really was her choice. That she didn’t…I don’t know. Feel obligated. To do what she did. Because of her dad.”

“I mean, maybe. We’re all just products of our environments, aren’t we? Go down that rabbit hole and I doubt anything we do can’t be linked to some weird adverse childhood experience.” He sipped at his coffee, casually, as if they’d just been discussing the weather. “It’s a bit early to start unpacking the nuances of free will, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, fiddling with a piece of loose skin around her thumb. “Guess you’re right.” 

Kaiden met her with a sympathetic look and a sigh. “This isn’t really about Ash, is it?”

With almost comedic timing, Kaiden’s omni-tool began to go off with overly-cheerful music. The sound of his alarm. Making a sound of annoyance under his breath, he worked frantically to silence it. 

“Oh shit, I’m making you late again, aren’t I?” 

Kaiden rolled his eyes, finally silencing the alarm. “Don’t worry about it. No one’s going to fault me for spending a few more minutes with my wife before she takes off again.” He smiled, tracing the outline of her jaw once more, his warmth tingling the back of her neck. He kissed her, once more, and without really thinking about it she was grabbing fistfuls of his shirt with her hands. When he pulled away, finally, it was wrinkled. He looked down and shoot his head. He told her his students teased him, once, when she had left a stain of lipstick on his collar before he left one morning. But he made no attempt to fix it. “I could still go with you,” he offered, one last time. 

Shepard shook her head. “You can Jack can’t both leave them. They need someone with a cool head— “

“I know,” he sighed “I just…needed you to remind me. I love you.” 

“I’ll be back before you get a chance to miss me.” 

“Too late,” he smirked, and he kissed her one last time, quickly, before disappearing beyond a square of sunshine as the front door closed behind him. She watched him walk to the end of the lot, his jacket slung over one shoulder, to the car. His eyes scanned the windows, counting which one was there. And although he couldn’t see her, he waved, knowing she was watching, before getting in the car and disappearing. And she waved back, knowing he was gone. 

Jack would be there any minute. Only one thing left to do — and not something she was looking forward to. Reluctantly, she pulled up her mother’s number on comms. A dozen messages from her sat, unread, all of them time stamped from this morning. No point reading them. She knew what every one of them said. 

“You’ve reached the office of Admiral Shepard, she’s not available to take personal — oh. My apologies, Commander. Patching you through.” As quickly as her secretary’s face appeared, it blurred, morphed into an image of Hannah, papers splayed across her desk, a look of annoyance on her face. 

“Jane,” she said, a chill in her voice. She did not look up from her desk. “I’m assuming you’re feeling better? Well enough to travel again?” If her sharp tone could cut, she’d be in a million little pieces right now. “Because it’s beyond me why you’re abandoning your duties as councilor to go on some wild goose chase. Without even giving your advisors so much as a day’s notice, or seeking permission from me.” 

“That’s not why I came home, if that’s what you’re implying,” she snapped. “Actually, trying this new thing where I listen to medical professionals. They ordered me home, you can ask them yourself.”

“Anything serious?” 

“Nothing that isn’t new.” 

Hannah pursed her lips. The wrinkles between her eyebrows had gotten deeper in the past few months. At least she knew that look of frustration wasn’t just reserved for her. “So, is your little trip to Montreal to go play detective doctors’ orders as well? Or just part of your sick leave?”

“Are you going to police what I choose to do as a private citizen?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “But that doesn’t mean I have to tolerate insubordination. Jack called me you know—Never in my life have I tolerated such disrespect. Telling me she’s taking you with her to find those kids herself, since I’m apparently too inept to do anything about it.” She narrowed her eyes. “I told her no. She disobeyed a direct order. Several of them. I have half a mind to discharge her, or worse.”

“You won’t.” Because of me, she thought, and a wave of relief washed over her. 

“I can’t,” Hannah corrected. “No matter what, I look like the bad guy. And there’s no way to keep this quiet, not when you’re involved.” 

So that’s why Jack wanted her. Good. “She asked me for help. She’s my friend.” 

“And you couldn’t tell her no? That your days of chasing down chaos are over?” She shook her head in annoyance. “God, sometimes I just can’t figure you out, Jane. Really. Sometimes I wonder if you intentionally look for the next pile of shit to step in.”

Blood rushed to her ears. In her mind, she was a sputtering, angry, idiot. Not the kind of person who calmly responded, “Gee, wonder where I get that from?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You raised me to fight my whole life. To always be the one to rush into danger first, even if it cost me my life. I can’t just turn my back of everything you taught me to be whenever it’s convenient for you.” 

“Is that what this is all about?” Hannah rolled her eyes, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to hang up. “Honey, we talked about this. I was wrong, okay? And I’m sorry.” She sounded earnest; she really did. Why did that only make her angrier? “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Jane. I don’t know how you want me to make it better.” 

“You can’t. That’s the problem,” she snapped. “Just stop, okay? Stop nagging me, stop criticizing everything I do. I’m not a child. I’m barely _your child_. I won a whole war without you telling me everything I do is stupid—”

“—I don’t think you’re stupid. I have never thought you were stupid,” Hannah interrupted. Her eyes were wide, wounded. Why didn’t that feel as good as she hoped it would? Why didn’t that satisfy the anger inside her, the one that came sputtering out of nothing, nowhere, as soon as she saw her dozen messages? “I’m worried about you, honey. This isn’t like you.” 

How would you know what I’m like? She wanted to spit, but she bit her tongue. What had gotten into her? She hardly recognized the woman in the view finder; her own reddened face, her own clenched fists. Yet somehow, she couldn’t bring herself down, couldn’t bring herself to return to the Shepard of ten minutes ago; so happy and soft, basking in the sunlight of the life Kaiden and her had built together. 

“Why don’t you come see me before you go today, okay? Scratch that—” She tapped at a screen near her desk. “I’ll come to you. I just cleared by day — we’ll talk this out.” Her face, painted with guilt and concern, was like a punch to the throat. Seriously, what was wrong with her? How was she supposed to explain herself to Hannah, to apologize for the way she’d spoken to her, when she herself didn’t fully understand what why she was doing this, why she so suddenly and violently felt this way? 

Air. She needed air. 

“I have to go. Jack’s waiting for me.” Really, she had no idea if Jack was outside. Three new messages pinged for her attention in the corner, unread. 

“Jane, don’t, please just—“

She didn’t hear that final request before ending the call. Grabbing her duffle, she hooked Valkyrie to her leash and made her way out the front door. Even Valkyrie seemed to sense something was wrong; she didn’t linger in the doorway, sniffing for squirrels and stray cats, and instead heeled obediently behind her owner. Jack was leaning against an unfamiliar car outside, looking cross. “Way to keep me waiting, don’t you ever check you— what the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, throwing her back in the back and opening the door for Valkyrie to hop in the middle seat. “Let’s just go. Please.” 

Jack opened her mouth, probably to make a smart comment on her tardiness, but decided against it. “You heard the woman,” she said, instead, to the automated driver. “Montreal. Step on it.” 

Shepard glanced back once more to her home, to her life. Dread punched her square in the throat, choking her out of nowhere, and a voice that was not her own rang clear as church bell in her mind: 

_What this is the last time I ever leave home?_

Stupid, she thought to herself. Just Kaiden’s unnecessary worrying, Hannah’s doubts creeping in. Nothing was going to happen to her. And even if it did, they hadn’t taken all the fight out of her just yet.


	44. What Is, What Was

This tedious argument was nothing new for them. They always seemed to circle back to this, this systemically flawed foundation to their relationship. As much as she told herself that there was no right or wrong, no winner or loser, just simply what was, her anger spat forth at the oddest of times. For so long, she’d gone without this thorn in her side. There simply wasn’t time to ruminate, and they never knew if a conversation could be their last. Kaiden said he felt the same way at times, about Jump Zero. That for so long he’d simply refused to sit still, refused to give himself a moments pause to really absorb what had happened, to question that maybe he wasn’t really fine. But the second the noise stopped; it all came tumbling down. You either feel what you need to in the moment, or it’ll stalk you all your life, and there’s no telling when it’ll go in for the kill. 

One of these pauses had been shortly after Horizon. A reminder of all she’d lost; time, friends, faith. And there was no one she could turn to anymore in her grief, no one she could trust, no one who would understand. 

She’d paused at the window of her cabin, eyes on the stars. It should bother her more, she thought, having the universe loom above her, considering it had once been the last thing she thought she’d ever see. But the good overpowered the bad. That night with Kaiden, in the fields, looking at the sky, the stars, as if they didn’t get a front row seat to the galaxy every day. The certainty of his voice, calling her, asserting that her company wasn’t tolerated, but wanted. She’d never known a peace like that before, and it was starting to seem like she’d never feel that way again. The stars above blurred to mere pencil-thin lines as the engine carried them away from that awful place, and for a moment, she let herself breath, trying to find a way to busy herself, something louder than the voice in her head. 

And then Hannah called. 

_Where the hell have you been? Two years, and you can’t even bother to tell your own mother that you’re alive? All I get is rumors, whispers from crew I couldn’t bear to give me hope, and then I find out they’re right? And not even from you. From Anderson. From that stupid boy you could have lost your job over. And now I hear you’re with Cerberus. What has gotten into you? I don’t even recognize you. You turned your back on me, on the Alliance, on everything I taught you. They killed Cassy, don’t you remember? And Omar. They killed dozens of men, strong men, good men, men with principals stronger than yours, who would never dishonor your life were they in your shoes. I thought I raised you better than this, I thought—_

Enough! Enough! Shut up! Shut up!

She screamed and screamed until her voice was an echo chamber, long after Hannah had hung up. Angry and wounded, she stripped and hit the shower, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest until the water turned too cold to bear. 

She’d done the same thing after her award ceremony on the Citadel. All the flourish, the award, the celebration for the Normandy crew; mostly for her. No one seemed to care that there was a box in the corner of her quarters; Ashley’s belongings, waiting to be sent back to her family. A folded flag, a well-loved copy of her Norton’s Anthology of Poetry, a hairbrush, and a novelty shot glass she’d nicked from a bar their first shore leave together. This was all that remained of the person who should have been there to laugh at stuffy politicians with her over late-night drinks. 

Her family had been on the Citadel that day for the ceremony, seated back and to the left, and she’d been unable to take her eyes off the row of dark-haired women. Of course they’d spoken before, over messages, just after Ash passed. It had been stiff, cordial. After all, what was there to say? Sorry I let your daughter, your sister, die?

Her mother had smiled as she handed her the box. 

“She talked about you.” Her face was creased, especially around the eyes. “About how you saved her, on Eden Prime. And how proud she was to serve with you.” 

Shepard pursed her lips. What was there to say? She was here, before her, a star pinned to her chest, being touted around like a fluffy show dog, while Ash was gone. It was so easy to descend into her memories of her, so easy she still looked for in the mess, where they often sat together. She read often, then, silently across from her, sometimes so focused she’d sit for several minutes with a spoon still in her mouth. But as they grew closer, they started reading together, sharing their own thoughts and experiences from between the pages. After finding out Shepard had never gotten a formal education outside the Alliance, Ash seemed so happy to share everything she knew about the beauty words could hold. Secretly, Shepard had always hoped for someone who loved to read as much as she had, someone who wouldn’t judge her for missing out on sitting through high school lectures on the classics, and Ashley had done just that. Before she died, she’d lent Shepard her poetry Anthology. They’d never gotten to talk to her about that Yeats poem she’d dog-eared for her to read later. 

Her mother smiled to herself when she saw the copy on top. Hardly anyone used hard-copy books anymore, but Ash had always been an old soul. The pages were crumpled with dog-eared pages, scribbled with her handwriting. “She’d want you to have this.” 

“What? No, I—“

“Hush. No arguing,” her mother had said, with a surprisingly stern voice. No, not surprising, not for someone who’d known loss as she had. The woman was tough as nails. Had to be. “Take care, Commander. And thank you, for everything.” 

That book was burned to a crisp a few short months later. A replacement was nestled in the bottom of her bag now, her first request while under house arrest, but of course it wasn’t the same. Too new, too unmarked, unloved, and unread. 

Kaiden had found her in that same sorry state, curled up on the shower floor, so wounded she wasn’t even sure what hurt anymore. She remembered the way he’d come in behind her, seemingly not caring how soaked his clothes were getting. “Jane,” he said, softly, his hands so warm and certain against the cold water. He helped her to her feet, wiped the smeared makeup from her face, turned off the water and led her to the bed, a towel over her shoulders. The cold was settling into her bones now, and he grabbed a set of fatigues from her drawer, occupying himself with something on her desk while she dressed, as now he’d crossed some kind of line. Who knows how long she would have wallowed in that place had he not come along, but his pretense seemed to calm something inside her. It was the way he moved, silent but with intention, never startling, never sudden. The way he calmed her guilt, her feelings of shame that she should be stronger than this, his voice low and calm, _I know how the silence can be the hardest part._

But as her mother’s voice echoed around the shower walls, there was no one to pick her up this time. No sense of peace. And something deep down wondered if she’d ever feel that safe again.  
She was sleeping in the lion’s den after all, even if she had her reasons, nothing Kaiden or her mother said was incorrect. She couldn’t trust anything she was being told, even the most basic of truths. More often than she’d like to admit, she wondered if they were right. Maybe Shepard really was gone. After all, the self that she had known would have never worked with Cerberus. Would have kicked and screamed her way out, gone down fighting. It was a good thing she hardly had any time to her own thoughts; a moments pause and she would be lost in her reflection. After all, how many times could a person shatter and be hurriedly put back together again before some of the pieces went missing? It was Shepard’s hair that was growing back unevenly, Shepard’s hands that became sore as she tried to earn back her calluses, Shepard’s skin that had carried every scar, every mark, every stupid stick-and-poke moon. It was Shepard’s eyes that stared back in the mirror, Shepard’s nose, Shepard’s lips. Not hers.  
Shepard’s. 

Of course, slowly but surely, she’d learned to trust herself again, and in moments of uncertainty Kaiden was there. She could always trust him with her fears, trust that he would know her truly; and the fact that he had doubted only solidified that he believed in her—his faith had always been intense, but never blind. He wasn’t the type to accept a comforting lie. Shit, even when she’d almost kicked him straight through drywall, he never wavered. 

Fuck. Why didn’t she let him come with her? Her head was still spinning from the argument this morning, she could hardly focus on any of the reports on the datapad front of her. At one time she’d had to problem reading in the shuttle, but now it made her feel dizzy, breathless. More than a dozen messages glared at her from her omnitool, pinging every few minutes until she finally silenced it and tried to enjoy her last few moments of silence before they arrived. When she finally checked them again, she didn’t even bother opening them, the subject alone showed her mother’s growing desperation. _I’m worried, please call me back. What’s going on with you? This isn’t like you. I don’t understand —_

A single message from Kaiden sat at the top.  
_Everything okay? Give me a call when you get a chance._

Why did such a simple question make her stomach churn? Kaiden was her partner, the person she’d always been able to tell anything. If anyone in this world understood her, it was him. So why was it so hard to move her finger across the screen, to just let him see her face, to make sure he knew she was alright? 

“Uhh…Shepard?” Jack was standing, and the door hissed, sunlight pouring through. She hadn’t even noticed they’d landed. “We’re here.” 

It was the smell that punched her in the gut first. Nothing else was like it, that inner-city smell. Gas and garbage, food stalls, cheap diners serving burnt coffee, and too many people close together. It wasn’t a bad smell, necessarily, just different, like the way ships started to smell a bit stale after months of recycling air. It would wind you if you weren’t used to it, but to her it smelled like childhood; klepping packs of smokes from the gas station to trade for food, street hockey, scaling chain-link fences to escape the neighborhood watch. In fact, at a glance, these could be her streets. Shady motels where the older Reds laughed as she wheezed on her first cigarette, the dumpster she hid behind and tried not to vomit when she shot and killed her first man, the garage where she let some shady Alliance-deserter doctor dig around in her brain. It made her skin crawl, but part of her felt embraced, like she could flow back into the streets so easily, as if she had never left. 

The Ramirez home was just around the corner, situated on top of a corner store. I seemed the family business was closed, indefinitely. The glass windows had been shattered, by Reapers or looting civilians, she couldn’t know. But there was a brightness to it, still, life pulsed through every corner. The walls were painted a sunshine yellow that fought against the layer of ash, and an older man in overalls and a toolbox seemed to be working in the interior. He stood when he saw the women come toward him, his eyes drawn to Jack’s striking appearance first before resting on Shepard’s bright hair. 

“You came,” he said, as if in disbelief, dropping his tools to greet them, his hands dry and callused as she shook their hands. He said very little as he escorted them up the steps. There was very little to be said. 

Mrs. Ramirez seemed less shocked at the strangers in their doorway. She smiled, offered them tea, practically pushing them toward the living room and settling them on the couch while she fussed with the few things out of place. A crooked picture frame here, a smudge on the window there. A single photo, its frame shattered, was placed lovingly on the coffee table in front of them. In it, a family smiled. The man. The woman. A boy, older, only maybe half a decade or so younger than Shepard, showed off Alliance blues, beaming with pride. The girl, Lydia, she knew, from the missing persons report, couldn’t have been older than twelve then. 

When she’d finished fussing, Mrs. Ramirez finally settled in the loveseat across from them, beaming with hope and pride, her husband squished in close beside her, his hand on her lap, which she squeezed tightly. She reminded Shepard, suddenly and violently, of the owner of the corner store she frequented as a child. What was her name again? She used to offer her the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches her son rejected from his school lunches, and would chase away the mean stray dogs that plagued the alleyways with a broom. Once, when one had given Shepard a nasty bite, she even pulled her into the back of the store and showed her how to sew herself up. She hasn’t been gentle, never even gave her a warning before dumping disinfectant on her arm, causing her to scream, but her stitches were neat, and she lived to fight another day. 

“—Commander.” The mother smiled. Shepard snapped to attention. She’d been thinking of that corner store so vividly, she’d almost lost herself. “She adored you, you know. Wanted to be a big Alliance hero, just like you.” 

She choked on her response. Hopefully not, she hoped to day. Hopefully she never has a reason to fight. Hopefully the world didn’t need another hero. 

Luckily, Jack clicked her tongue in annoyance, responding before Shepard even had a moment to scramble together a few words. “Yeah, never shut up about it. Ask me though, she’s better in a backup role. Never had very strong biotics.” Mrs. Ramirez frowned, and Jack added quickly, “brilliant kid though, don’t get me wrong. A little too smart for her own good sometimes.”

“Don’t we know it,” Mr. Ramirez grinned, “truth to be told, it’s kind of a relief that her biotics never got stronger. Already lost Andrew, don’t need to lose another one.” He frowned, and his wife lowered her eyes. Squeezed his hand. Shepard glanced down to the picture on the counter. 

“Andrew is your son?” She asked, picking it up carefully, so as not to slice her finger open on the remaining glass. 

Mrs. Ramirez nodded. “Yes, he was deployed to a biotics division in London.” 

“Was?” 

“MIA,” Mr. Ramirez responded. “Presumed…” She seemed to be lost on the second word. Too long of a pause. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” She brushed aside a bit of the glass. They looked alike, Lydia and Andrew. Same nose as their father. Same dark hair as their mother. “Were Lydia and Andrew close?” 

“Very. She looked up to him,” Mrs. Ramirez told her. “They were so far apart in age, they never really fought like siblings. He practically helped raise her. I mean, when the whole world tells you you’re a biotic freak, you have to hold on to whoever you can. I’m sure you understand.” She smiled, sadly, turning her gaze on Jack. “She adores you too, you know. Never stopped talking about how great you were. She really needed someone like you, after we lost Andrew.” 

Jack tried to look neutral, but her reddened ears showed her bashful bride. “How was Lydia doing, after Andrew?” 

“Not well, to be honest,” her father answered. “Never really accepted it. But she’s always been stubborn—always thought she could outsmart anything and anyone. Like she could think her way out of the grave.” 

“Unfortunately, very true,” Jack added, a twinge of annoyance in her voice. “Why’d she end up coming home the week she went missing anyway? Never told me. But she seemed…upset. Wouldn’t tell me why.”

The Ramirez’s glanced at each other, confused, worried, before Mrs. Ramirez bit her lip. “She said she failed a test in your class. Needed to take a breather. She was always hard on herself; you know.” 

“Failed a test?” Jack scoffed, “in my class? Yeah, right.” 

The couple exchanged worried glances at each other. “I don’t understand. Why would she lie?” 

“Does she have any friends in the area? Any places she might go, with or without your knowledge?” Shepard asked. 

The parents glanced at each other again. “Not without our permission, no. But she liked to go to the arcade down the street, one of those ancient places with the tickets and the prizes? The owner would sometimes give her a few credits for fixing the broken machines for her. That’s all she really did around here.” Mrs. Ramirez glanced around, worriedly, like she’d said something wrong. “She’s a good kid, never got in any trouble with the law, always behaved. You don’t think—“ 

“We’ll find her,” Shepard promised, firmly, rising to her feet. “I won’t rest until we find something, you have my word.” 

She nodded; her eyes wide, tearful. “Thank you, Commander. Jack. Anything you need—just ask.” 

“Is it okay if Jack pokes around Lydia’s room a bit?” She nodded, and Shepard turned to Jack. “Look for clues, see if you can find something she wore recently. I doubt Val will be able to pick anything up at this point, but it’s worth a shot. I’ll go check out this arcade.” She turned her attention back to Lydia’s parents. “I’ll call you the second we know anything, I promise.” 

“I can never thank you enough. Come, we’ll show you to Lydia’s room. Try not to—“

“Won’t disturb anything more than I have to,” Jack added, quickly. 

Shepard saw herself out, slinking down the stairs and down to the streets below. Her head suddenly felt clearer than it had in weeks, purpose resting on her shoulders, and a heart beating firmly in her chest. It scared her, almost, how quickly and easily she could slip back into her old ways. No, she reminded herself. Not my old ways. That person never left. 

Commander Shepard was still alive.


End file.
